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mylackoffaith · 5 months

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Dragon's Dreamer - Part I

Summary: Winning races is child's play compared to waking up naked, and tangled in the sheets with none other than Daemon Targaryen himself. Not only that, but you're also the daughter of Otto Hightower?

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x modern!reader word count: 3009 words

“Cunt!”

You shift your gear, and manage to slow the car a little as your opponent, Blaze moves in front of you as a means to block your path. You swerve to the right, in a way to overtake Blaze.

This race was not going your way, clearly. Actually, not just the race, but your whole day was just horrible. What with your landlord not fixing the water problem in your apartment and then to top it off, he had the audacity to increase the rent. Dick face.

You mentally curse the person whose face you first saw this morning, blaming them for the mess your day has become. Then you remember it was your black cat, Storm. Instantly, you retract all your curses because, well, Storm's your baby, and he can never bring bad luck.

Teeth gritted, hands firmly on the wheel, you refuse to let Blaze have the upper hand. Today is not the day you lose a race, especially when there's money on the line. Your engine roars as you slam the gas pedal, and send your car surging forward.

You can tell Blaze has noticed you trying to overtake him, as he tries to block you again, but you're not letting that piece of shit take your cash home. As he moves to the right, you swerve left this time, and slip past his car and zoom past the finishing mark.

You drift to a stop, a bright smile on your face as you savour the victory. Your chest is heaving, your blood is pumping, and your adrenaline is still running high. Blaze screeches to a halt behind you, his face a mix of surprise and frustration. You can hear the roar of the engines and the cheers of the crowd.

The cool breeze feels amazing on your hot and flushed face as you step out of your car, heart still pounding. Before you can fully get out of the car, a screech escapes you as you are lifted off the ground and spun around.

It's Emma, your best friend, grinning from ear to ear, and cheering your name. "You crazy bitch, you did it! I could kiss you right now!" they exclaim, as you wrap your arms around their neck to keep yourself from falling.

Emma sets you down, both of you laughing and catching your breath. The high from your victory is buzzing through your veins. You can feel the eyes of the crowd on you, and Blaze begrudgingly walks over, a forced smirk on his face.

"Lucky win. No need to get too cocky," Blaze mutters, trying to save face but you can see the annoyance in his eyes.

"Cut the bullshit, and face it, she smoked you fair and square. You're just a sore loser." Emma retorts, their tone sharp and unapologetic. They stand next to you, with their hand around your waist.

You can't help the smile that spreads you, and raise a brow at Blaze, "No, no. You're right, Blaze. Maybe it was a lucky win, but when I wake up tomorrow, I'd still be a winner, and you'd still be stuck to the same old loser routine. Tough break."

Blaze scowls at your words but doesn't say much, clearly irritated. Laughter erupts between you and Emma as Blaze retreats, the cool breeze carrying away the tension of the race.

Emma turns to you, placing a kiss on your cheeks. "You, my girl, deserve a few drinks. How about after you collect your prize, we hit The Hop House? First round's on me," Emma suggests, a mischievous glint in their eyes.

You grin at Emma's suggestion, feeling the thrill of the victory still coursing through your veins. "Hell yeah, when have I ever turned down free drinks?" you reply, feeling the rush of excitement and accomplishment.

The two of you head off, with Emma's arm around your shoulder, ready to drink the night away. Your pool of cash awaits, and calls your name. our pool of cash is calling your name, and you've got plans for that moolah – rent's getting paid, the fridge will finally be full, Storm will get a new toy, and that PlayStation plus subscription is getting renewed. Because let's be honest, Joel Miller and Arthur Morgan are calling your name.

Nothing can ruin your night, or the following day.

A groan escapes you, and son of a bitch does your head hurts, as you lift it from the pillow. You squint your eyes at the blinding sunlight stabbing through the curtains, regretting every decision made last night. Your head's pounding like a drummer in a metal band, and you're pretty sure a family of woodpeckers set up shop in your brain overnight.

Sitting upright, you realise that the room's a blur, and you rub your temples like that's gonna magically fix the hangover. A pathetic whine escapes you because going to work with a hangover is the last thing you want to do. Dealing with Rhys and his relentless flirting on top of this pain? No, thank you.

"Oh good, you're awake."

You flinch so hard, you might've set a record for the fastest, most ungraceful wakeup in the history of hangovers. The screech that escaped your throat is a sound you vow to never repeat. Like, ever. You whip your head around, and regret it immediately. The room spins, and you grab onto the edge of the bed for dear life.

You blink a few times, trying to focus on your surroundings. The blurred room starts to come into view, revealing a place that's definitely not your messy apartment. Because no way in hell is your room this big, nor does it look straight out of period drama.

You're stuck in some fancy-ass room with curtains that look like they belong in a royal castle. And speaking of fancy, there's a guy sitting across from you, looking like he just walked out of that show that your sister watches and sends you edits and facts about.

The guy is broad, like, shoulders-for-days kind of broad, and tall enough that you gotta tilt your head back a bit to meet his eyes. He's wearing a black coat, the ones that Lords wear in a historical drama, complete with shiny buttons and intricate embroidery

He's got long, silver hair, and violet eyes? What the fuck? You squint at him, convinced you must be seeing things. Violet eyes aren't a real thing, right? Because if they are, you need to meet God immediately and demand why you weren't given a pair.

"Easy there, little girl," he says with a smirk, cutting off your eye-colour investigation. You're still trying to process the silver hair and violet eyes when he leans back in his chair, all casual-like.

You're sitting there, staring at this dude with silver hair and violet eyes, feeling like you just stumbled into a weird dream. But, nope, this is real, and he's calling you "little girl." Rude much?

"Motherfucker, don't call me little girl. The last guy who tried that got a black eye," you retort, because, seriously, who does he think he is? You might be in an unknown place, but you're not about to let this silver-haired dude talk down to you.

"Oh, the daughter of Otto Hightower has a bit of fire in her," he chuckles, raising an eyebrow like he's enjoying this little exchange. That smirk on his face? It's practically begging for a fist.

"First of all, who the heck is Otto Hightower, and secondly, who are you?" you demand, your arms, crossed defiantly, suddenly feel a lot heavier, and when you glance down, it hits you.

You're naked. Covered only by these flimsy silk sheets, you're clutching onto them for dear life. You pull the sheets away to look down, to see that you're naked from head to toe. Your face snaps up at the man sitting in front of you, only to see his amused expression morph into a wide grin. Great, just great.

"Oh, don't worry, little Hightower, I've seen it all before," he says with a teasing glint in his violet eyes. You're not sure whether to be annoyed or embarrassed, but you quickly decide on a mix of both.

"Alright, first of all, stop with the 'little Hightower' crap. Call me by my name or don't call me at all," you declare, mustering all the confidence you can while wrapped in those flimsy sheets. He leans forward in his chair, still grinning like he finds this whole situation amusing.

"Fair enough, little Hightower," he says, emphasising the last two words just to irk you.

You shoot him a death glare, but he just laughs. "Alright, Silver Fox, let's cut the crap. Where am I, and how the heck did I end up here?" you demand, deciding to take charge of this weird conversation.

The silver fox tilts his head to the side, a confused glint in those violet eyes, while his head rests on his fist. "Did I fuck you too hard to make you lose your memory?" he smirks, clearly enjoying the banter.

You roll your eyes, unamused. "Trust me, if that were the case, I'd remember it vividly. Now, are you going to answer my question or keep making terrible innuendos?"

"Oh, good one, little Hightower. After the passionate night we spent, I reckon your father would have no choice but to wed us. Could you imagine, the pious and eldest daughter of Otto Hightower, and Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue prince?" he teases, his tone laced with amusement.

Daemon Targaryen.

You can't help but let out a chuckle, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. The laughter bubbles up within you, gradually turning into a full-blown, almost maniacal eruption. It's almost too surreal, and you find it hard to believe that this isn't some elaborate prank your sister pulled.

You remember all the times you had scoffed at the complicated family tree, and the absurdity of season 8. Your sister had insisted you give it a chance, and now it seems like she's turned the tables on you, dropping you into the very world you dismissed.

The daughter of Otto Hightower. The guy that pushed his daughter into the bed of the walking dead and practically handed her a one-way ticket to the chaos express. Seriously, why couldn't you be the daughter of someone sensible, like Ned Stark? The guy was practically the gold standard of fathers in the messed-up Game of Thrones world.

House of the Dragon, you loved it because it was much better than Game of Thrones. You also loved Rhaenyra, your bisexual baby, she could do no wrong in your eyes. Aegon was relatable, what with your mommy issues, I mean sure the guy was… Well, you pause, realising you might be here a while if you list out all his issues.

Viserys, if he weren't a king, you would bash his head in. First the guy pressures his wife for an heir, then he kills her. The only good thing the man did was make Rhaenyra the heir. Then the guy is a dick to all his other children. If Viserys had no haters, you were dead.

Rhaenys, and Corlys. The DILF and MILF of the Seven Kingdoms, and possibly even Essos. Well, followed closely by Oberyn, and Ellaria. . Rhaenys, your queen, held a pedestal in your heart so high you'd gladly sacrifice yourself just for the privilege of sharing the same air. And, oh, when they say black don't crack, Corlys was living proof.

Laenor, now there's an underrated gem. Honestly, the best guy in the whole series. He accepted the Strong children as his own, raised them as his own, all while hiding who he truly was. Then there was Laena, sweet and fiercest Laena, who you'd willingly walk into fire to protect.

Helaena and Luke. Your precious little babies whom you'd preserve and hold forever if you could. They're the kind of innocence you'd fight the Mountain for. Your little dragons, the only ones who you would kill anyone for.

Jace, your sweet gentleman, the kind of guy who'd rescue kittens from trees. The type that makes you believe chivalry isn't dead. Truly, Ser Harwin's son, and you loved both the father and son, for being the way they were.

Aemond was…well, Aemond. Complicated, pitiful, and a source of both frustration and fascination. You loved Luke, but you also loved Aemond. So you were honestly conflicted when he had lost his eye but gained Vhagar.

But the Daemon gave… a whole new meaning to the term "complicated." It's like he took a crash course in creating chaos and then decided to make it his life'

"You find something amusing, little Hightower?" He's still grinning, but now it's more like he's enjoying a private joke.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head slightly. "Please, just call me by my name. I've had enough of your 'little Hightower' nonsense already. And I'm not finding anything about this situation amusing, trust me," you reply, your tone a mix of irritation and disbelief.

Daemon's grin widens, clearly revelling in your exasperation. He checks his nails, before crossing his arms casually, silver hair cascading down his shoulders. "Alright, name it is, little Hightower."

You shoot him a glare, but he pays no mind, seemingly unfazed by your annoyance. "So, care to explain how I ended up here in this…room?" you ask, your sarcasm dripping like honey.

Daemon chortles, the sound echoing in the room. "Well, my little Hightower, it was quite the surprise, I must say, having the pious daughter of Otto Hightower, bursting into my room, begging me to take her maidenhood. I suppose I should commend you for your bravery. Not everyone dares to enter the lair of the dragon."

You arch an eyebrow, your irritation growing. "You do realise that storming into someone's room and begging for deflowering isn't exactly a standard move, right? I'm not some damsel in distress, and I certainly didn't come here to beg for anything."

Daemon's violet eyes gleam with amusement as he tilts his head, considering you. "Ah, a damsel with a bite. I like that. It's not every day a woman challenges me, especially in such… unconventional circumstances."

"I didn't burst into your room, and I certainly didn't beg for anything. I have no idea how I got here, and I'd appreciate it if you could provide some actual answers."

His grin fades slightly, replaced by a more contemplative expression. "Well, that's a bit disappointing. I was hoping for a more scandalous tale to spread across the Seven Kingdoms."

"Sorry to disappoint your highness, but my life isn't a series of scandalous escapades. Now, can we focus on the matter at hand?"

"Fine. Last night, upon my return from Flea Bottom, what greets me? You, sprawled in my bed, slumbering in all your naked glory, like a celestial offering. It was quite the unexpected revelation," Daemon remarks with a grin, his eyes dancing with mischief.

You glower at him, the reality of the situation sinking in. "Look, I've already told you, I have no idea how I got here. I didn't plan this little rendezvous, and I certainly didn't intend to become some sort of surprise package in your bed."

Daemon's amusement persists as he hands you his white tunic. "Oh, don't sell yourself short, my dear visitor. Not everyone gets the privilege of waking up beside Daemon Targaryen. Consider it an experience worth cherishing."

As you reluctantly take the tunic from Daemon, still wrapped in those flimsy silk sheets, you shoot him a look that could melt steel. "You know, waking up beside you is not on my list of life goals," you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than to him.

Daemon seems unfazed by your displeasure. "Life has a funny way of surprising us, doesn't it?"

You scoff at Daemon's casual attitude, shooting him a pointed look as you begin to struggle into his oversized tunic. It's a struggle not to trip over the lengthy fabric, but you manage to maintain at least a modicum of dignity.

The tunic hangs loosely on you, and you shuffle towards a massive mirror, still holding onto the silk sheets as if they're your last shred of dignity. The room spins a little less now, allowing you to navigate the unfamiliar terrain with some semblance of grace.

As you catch sight of your reflection, you scream. No, it's not because you suddenly transformed into a Targaryen dragon or something equally absurd. It's the realisation that your once normal, probably slightly neglected, hair is now ginger.

Ginger hair.

The ginger hair revelation hits you like a ton of bricks. You stare wide-eyed at the reflection in the mirror, desperately hoping this is just some bizarre dream. You reach up, running your fingers through the vibrant strands as if expecting them to revert to their usual colour with a simple touch.

You take a deep breath, trying to accept the bizarre turn your life has taken. As you gather your courage, the room starts to spin again, and a wave of dizziness washes over you. Before you can protest or question Daemon further, darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision.

The last thing you hear is Daemon's voice, distant and muffled, as you succumb to unconsciousness. The world blurs and fades away, leaving you in a disorienting abyss. The sensation is akin to tumbling down a rabbit hole, but there's no Wonderland waiting for you at the bottom.

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cyborg-franky · 1 year

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Sexy Time Mishaps Part 1

@silvers-d-me wanted something like this so I did some headcanons, thank you for supporting me!

Working on a list of 'most common sex mishaps' I was linked to. Plus a few of my own. I hope everyone enjoys <3

Part One Marco and Ace.

N/SFW Undercut - GN reader

The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh rang out in the doctor's office. You gripped the edge of the desk and cried out his name.

“There we go little bird, feeling good?” Marco asked, you could hear the smirk in his voice as he pulled out, slowly, deliberately. Making you mewl and whine at the feeling of emptiness before he slammed back in.

“M-Marco!” He leaned over your body, lips against your ear, you could feel his hot breath as he chuckled “Yes?” His hips snapped back once more and you were seeing stars.

The phoenix could be a very gentle lover, the kind of man who could make sex last for hours but he also had this incredibly feral side to him.

A side that wanted to fuck you over his desk halfway through the workday because he had urges.

You loved both sides.

“I’m so close,” You whined as you pushed back against his punishing pace. The legs of the desk creaked, your moans too loud to hear the screeching of the feet of the desk against the floorboards.

“Good, cum for me pretty bird yoi,” He hummed, nipping your ear as he speed up, desperate to make you a complete mess for him like he wanted everyone on the ship to hear you as they passed the office.

At this rate between the desk and you screaming at the impact of Marco’s intense session you were sure you’d alert the navy to your location.

You felt the cool surface of the desk on your cheek as he adjusted, getting you ridiculously deep, dragging his thick cock along your walls and you just moaned, all thoughts simply fucked out of your head.

Suddenly you heard a crack, the sound of wood splintering. “Marco, stop, stop, too much your going too hard!” You hissed when the sounds grew and something moved in the desk, you felt lower than a few seconds ago.

“Do you really mean that?” He asked, thinking you were putting it on for the sake of his ego.

Before you could answer there was an almighty snap, a crack of wood, and the sound of the flimsy legs giving out under the weight of you both and the roughness of Marco’s motions.

He pulled out in time before a real bad accident could happen but you still landed on the broken desk, flat on the floor with the legs bowed out. Both groaning, he rolled off of you, sitting up and helping you.

Concerned eyes looked over your body before the lazy smirk appeared on his lips.

“Looks like I fucked you too hard this time yoi,” He was so proud of himself until you elbowed him in the side.

Ace was always doing this, grabbing you when you passed down the hallway.

When he had a moment's break from his work he'd seek you out for a little bit of fun and honestly, you didn’t mind.

You loved the rush of sneaking away with him when others could accidentally catch you both.

The thrill got you going and you knew it made him hard.

Ace was grinning down at you right now, both of you hiding out in the empty room, one of the many used for storage on the vast ship.

You sighed when you felt his hands in your hair, gently brushing the strands behind your ears as you gazed up at him with such adoration in your eyes. The grin that stretched across his handsome freckled face just lit your fire even more.

“You look so hot babe, I love when you're on your knees in front of me like this..” He said, the smirk growing as he let go of your hair for a moment, unbuckling his belt and freeing his cock.

You didn't even have to be asked, you took his cock into your mouth gladly, loving every sound you could drag from him. Ace leaned against the wall, face flushed as he battled with the want, the need to buck his hips.

You moaned around his member, tongue working on him, knowing just what your boyfriend liked.

Ace must have been worked up because it barely took him any time to grab at your hair with one hand and bit his own hand to stifle the noises.

His hips thrusting with a mind of their own now, pushing down your throat, you took it well, used to how he often lost to his urges, swept away in the moment, drowning in the pleasure.

What neither of you was used to, however, was the sudden erupt bang on the door as Ace cried out, cumming.

You jerked your head away from him, staring at the door that rattled like someone was trying to get in.

Ace couldn’t stop, he couldn’t put on the brakes and he grabbed his cock, and he came, hard.

Hitting you right in the eye, you screamed out, unprepared for the sudden ‘eye shot’

Ace winced and panicked, dropping to his knees and cupping your cheeks “Oh babe, I didn’t mean to! Oh fuck, you okay?”

“Fucking, fuck, fuck!” You whined and shook your head just as the door opened.

Marco and Thatch standing there, staring at you rubbing your face, and Ace with his cock out looking like he was about to have a panic attack as he fussed over you.

“Looks like you need a doctor,” Thatch said, shaking his head with a laugh as Marco’s shoulders slumped a tsk as you and Ace stared at him.

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summertimemusician · 6 months

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Linktober Shadow Day 9

Wallmasters

*Downs cofffe like a shot* Also know as The One Where Legend Did Not Collaborate, and the reason all other prompts are late along with exam season so I'm not fully satisfied with it even with the Hollow Knight ost, the Link Between Worlds ost, tea and spite carrying this. Ah well, I'll just do my best to catch up and maybe rewrite it to give Legend more justice later, this is a self indulgent little series anyway. Having a lot of fun with the other prompts for both Linktober and Linktober Shadow. Legend is my second true Link (Time being the first and Twilight the second), so this goes out for him and his fans, he's such a complex Link and I shall do my best to do him proper justice in the future.

As always can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, and before anyone asks yes I am making Reader gender neutral on purpose, whatever gender they are is up to ya'll lol.

Walking through Dungeons could be a fifty fifty experience.

On one hand, the loot was usually always good and it could be a pretty thrilling or simple experience, on the other hand, the danger was very, very real, between the monsters and many puzzles and traps, it sets every hero on edge, even if most weren’t used to the structure of dungeons all of them could recognize danger at every corner.

Which was why when hearing a faint skittering from the shadows of the abandoned ruins and seeing Legend twitching for his sword, you were immediately on alert, making sure to speak lowly and to keep yourself in his sights (it was a hard won crumb of knowledge, that Legend preferred to have any members of the group in his line of sight if possible, but easy enough to accommodate and you would not question it, didn’t need to), “Any guesses, hero?”

Legend pursed his lips, eyes flicking to the sides then the open fissures of the floor, undoubtedly leading either to a long way down to the previous floor or many broken bones – most likely the second really with a healthy heaping of painful death on top – and then above, cursing as he shoved you back against the doorway alcove with a grimace, “Wallmasters. You better be ready to book it for the chest when I tell you to, got it? I am not fighting my way back down just to drag you back up. We need to take those out if possible.”

You nodded, grim as you tightened your grip onto your sword, you knew Legend wouldn't, he'd never be the one to leave someone first, but you could agree that getting separated in a dungeon with black blooded monsters in it was a recipe for disaster.

"One.", you squinted at the shadows above, trying to make out the scratching of long, sharp claws over stone, vision wasn't always the most reliable sense in the dark.

"Two." Legend's grip on the fire rod shifted, more used to spotting these things than you are, you'll just have to follow your reliable veteran's lead.

"Go!" He snapped, and you didn't hesitate, the door was locked so you'd need the key as urgently as possible-

You jump to the side, a 'SLAM!' rocking the dungeon floor to it's foundations, you slash away at a nearby keese swarm with a curse as Legend sets the Wallmaster alight. It doesn't scream but it does shudder, nails racking over the floor with an awful, cutting sound, leaving black gouges that you are sure you'd hate to be touched by, "Any others?!"

Legend flicks his gaze up, switching to his sword a heartbeat later to his other hand and slashing at the smaller hands which rose from the death of it's progenitor, their nail rake over his sword with a screech and bones crunch over his boot, "Not yet, go grab the key!"

You don't need to hear it twice, quickly kicking the chest open with no hesitation, grabbing the key. You hiss as one of the smaller hands escape one of Legend's guard and make a grab for your ankle, it's claws sink into your flesh and it hurts like hell but you persevere, making a break for the door. As soon as you open it you can work on dealing with the blood and undoubtlety quickly rotting flesh.

A second 'SLAM!' rocks the ground, Legend snarls, cutting through the second Wallmaster with a lot more difficult than he ought to, when it's blood comes black, backing off from the crawling hands, conserving as much magic as he can as the hand returns to the ceiling, dripping ink down into the ground, "An exit any second now would be really nice you know!"

"I'm working on it Din damnit!" You growl back, slotting the key into the slot and bashing your leg agaisnt an uneven leg, it hurts but it also hurts the hand, letting you go with a sickening crack of bone, you twist the key and hear the tell tale click of a lock opening, you turn back to Legend with a relieved breath, "Quick, come help me open it!"

Legend nods, baring his teeth back in a smirk as he helps you push open the door, black blood drips in front of you both, making his blood freeze.

"GET BACK!", He hollers, tackling you down into the ground, you both go through the door with a curse, your head almost cracking against the solid, old brick floor if not for Legend's hand, the space where you both were shakes as the wounded Wallmaster comes down, curls it's slashed fingers into a loose fist, as much as it could when burned and slashed.

All is silent, and you both finally breath at ease, Legend offering his hand to you with a sigh, "Come on, let's get out of this thrice damned dungeon already. Make sure not to keel over on me."

You accept, scoffing, hip checking him as soon as you're up, "As if I'd let you have all the fun, Leg."

You and him, however, wholeheartedly agree in your shared hatred of Wallmasters.

If you don't call out the shaking of Legend's hand when he pulled you up, or the hint of red on his face or the way you both stick close to one another as you continue through the dungeon. You'll just chalk it up to poor visibility and the want to not be separated.

#linked universe x reader #linked universe legend x reader #summer writes linktober shadow 2023 #summer writes #I adore Legend and his sarcastic existence with all my soul but by God is he hard to write #He uses snark to hide how much he cares and to prevent getting hurt again and it's a really tricky balance to hit #though that makes him an incredibly fun character that I can only hope to write more and write better in the future #Shout out to my hatred of wallmasters specifically #except Wind Waker wallmasters/floormasters. apparently they're just lonely so I try not to give them a hard time #all others can meet the end of Legend's fire rod in a most intimate manner #not fully satisfied with this one but next one's will be better #at least now I can move onto the others in relative peace #*cracks knuckles and cackles like a mad witch casting a curse before being burned at the stake*

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calicocatsarecute · 8 months

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hiii!!

i saw you’re also participating in tickletober! may i pls request day 4&5 combined with lee akaza and lers douma and kokushibo? thank you 😊

Yes my friend ofc! I believe you mean day 4: weak spot and day 5: I’m not ticklish. This is gonna be super duper adorable! This is when Akaza’s ticklishness was first discovered.

__________________________________________

The three uppermoons were all on a mission together. That stupid flower Muzan wanted has still yet to be, so the demon lord thought it’d be easier if multiple demons were on the job at the same.

The first two, Kokushibo and Douma, were alright with the idea. The third demon, Akaza, however was not as thrilled.

Akaza liked to work alone, but now that all had to change for tonight.

“Akaza you’ve had the same frown on your face since we started! Is there, per chance, something bothering you?” Douma teased the smaller demon, booping his nose at the end of his sentence.

Akaza just shook it off and picked up his pace until he was right next to Kokushibo.

The older demon looked down at the latter as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Douma just let him be for a bit.” Kokushibo suggested as he turned his head around.

Unluckily for the two, Douma ignored the advice. And again, started another spiel.

“But Kokushibo, can’t you tell he’s obviously upset? He just needs a little cheering up!” Douma said, this time poking the smaller in the side.

“EEP!”

The two taller demons looked down at the demon that created the noise ultimately confused.

The two stared at the now blushing demon until Douma pieced two and two together.

“Akaza you’re ticklish!?” The Demon exclaimed, eyes shinning in delight.

“No! No I’m not!” Akaza huffed out as he crossed his arms.

“I think someone might be lying~” Douma teased giving him another poke and hearing another squeak.

Akaza’s cheeks were more red than before but again… “I’m NOT ticklish dumbass!”

“Oh alright then…. Then you wouldn’t mind me doing this!” Douma called out, tackling the smaller to the ground, and starting skittering his fingers over his friend’s ribs.

The dam broke almost immediately. Akaza’s hands coming up to try and protect himself from the onslaught.

“Stohohohop ihihihihihihit!”

“Hmmm, nah. Besides look at how cute you are!”

“Ihihihi’m nohohot cuhuhute ihidihiohot!” Akaza giggled, trying to argue.

“Kokushibo don’t you think our little friend here is cute?” Douma asked now dragging the older into his little mess.

“Please don’t bring me into this.” Kokushibo sighed. But, he couldn’t say he wasn’t curious about Akaza’s new found weakness.

Walking over to the two, he placed Akaza’s head in lap. He then stretched out an arm and starting kneading the spit right under his navel.

“W-WAHAHAIHIHIT! NONONO NOHOHOHOHOHO!” Akaza squealed, his hands now trying to pry Kokushibo away.

The other two demons couldn’t help but smile. Kokushibo now brought his other hand to scribble along the stripe that went down his torso. That almost got the two thrown away by how hard Akaza tried to jerk away.

“Oooooo, nice going Kokushibo!” Douma praised now deciding to knead at Akaza’s thigh.

“KOKUSHIBO NOHOHOT THEHEHERE! GEHEHET OHOHOFF, STOHOHOP, MMMAHAHA! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHICKLES!” Akaza screeched.

“It’s supposed to tickle you little cutie!” Douma perked up.

Kokushibo stopped his onslaught and signaled for Douma to stop his as well.

Akaza curled up in a ball, in Kokushibo’s lap, as residue giggles spilled out.

“Come on we have to get back to our original goal.” Kokushibo stated scooping up the now tired demon.

“Alright fine.” Douma got up as well, and patted Akaza on the head, and was relieved that he didn’t lose his.

__________________________________________

Just a reminder that I’m taking requests through the month of October for Tickletober. Have a wonderful day!

#demon slayer tickle #kny tickle #tickle fic #lee!akaza #ler!douma #ler!kokushibo #tickletober

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just-an-alligator · 2 years

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BNHA - Villain!Mic AU: How to Date a Cryptid

Put Your Hands Up!

After their first meeting on the rooftop Mic gets a little bit obsessed with the terrifying shadow man with red eyes (particularly since the newbie hero (her name is GlitterBomb) was high key terrified of him). At first he thinks oh, fellow villain.

But that is a no go because the next time he sees the guy (actually sees him and not the sleep deprived shadow man) he’s tossing a group of thieves at the police and lecturing them about doing something more constructive with their lives. And they are not at all thrilled to hear it. But he’s weirdly kind about the whole thing and Mic is even more intrigued because this random nobody hero (?) actually seems to care about where the villains end up.

And Mic, in his super obvious disguise (which is like a leather trench coat that's been bedazzled to hell and back) is peeking out around the corner is like, 'okay cool the red-eyed-cryptid is a hero, I guess? Also what the hell kind of name is Eraser?'

He notes that the police are very obviously averting their gazes and saying things like:

‘Yes, these villains tied themselves up and turned themselves over to the police. No, there was no hero intervention at all.’ And Eraser just salutes and casually slingshots himself up onto the power lines.

And proceeds to run along them like a demented cat... 'cute!'

This all just tickles Mic's hyper fixation more because ‘what kind of hero doesn’t like publicity?

....This one, this one hates the media:

Regardless, Mic is low key touched that this random cryptid that haunts the rooftops is telling two bit criminals to do something better with their lives rather than calling them worthless wastes of space and condemning them to a lifetime in Tartarus. The natural showman in Mic is very interested by the man that’s so underground he completely rejects any and all credit for his capture. How does he get paid? Does he get paid? Does his weird cryptid hero need a sugar daddy perchance?

So he decides to investigate more.

Only the next time he runs into Eraser at night he’s watching one of those limelight heroes do his damn best to beat the tar out of him and Mic watches as the object of his fun new obsession is literally thrown into the trash by some asshole hero.

He’s cute and snarky about it which shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. And the asshole lime lighter gets two steps closer and threatens to arrest him and Mic decides nope~

And makes his displeasure known with a targeted siren head screeching that literally makes the hero piss himself and flee.

And Aizawa just looks at him with a clear WTF expression.

‘That was a hero you know,’ Eraser says flatly, not even bothering to get up out of the trash heap.

Mic shrugs, his shoulders knocking up against the directional speaker with a low thunk. ‘So, I’m the bad guy, remember.’

He watches as Eraser squints up at him. Mic would say you can almost see the steam coming out of his ears with how hard his brain is working. It’s probably the concussion. He obviously has a concussion. Is this one of those ‘go to the hospital’ things? Should he pick Eraser up and take him home with him? That would be the neighbourly, good citizen thing to do, right?

Suddenly, Eraser clicks his tongue irritably and points somewhere slightly to Mic's left.

‘You’re that loud asshole who scared the glitter kid and ruined the only chance at a solid eight hours I've had in a month.’

Mic does not know how to respond to that other than, ‘and your the beautiful monster that has been haunting my night terrors like a sleep paralysis demon. Do you want to get some coffee?’

And proceeds to tie up the heavily concussed Eraserhead and take him on an impromptu kidnapping/date at a unassuming coffee shop (which he may or may not have broken into).

Poor Aizawa, who has never been on a date in his life can't really see straight, has no clue what' going on. The only thing he's thinking is, 'oh god, I have to be at work in three hours.' But he can't really get a word in edgewise what with the world spinning around him and Mic monologuing his TRAGIC BACKSTORY at him.

And that is how Present Mic got his first date with the cryptid vigilante who freaked him out so much he yeeted himself off a roof.

He's very pleased with the outcome all things considered.

Even when Eraser Sparta Kicks him into a duck pond the next time they meet and he almost drowns.

#bnha #mha #bnha fanfic idea #erasermic #eraserhead #aizawa shota #aizawa shouta #present mic #yamada hizashi #Villain Mic au #I might actually write this in full one day

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your-local-grubdog · 11 months

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Together in the Storm Chapter 13: What Cetacea Saw

Story Summary: Olimar is back home once again, ready to rest and recuperate from everything that had happened. Yet the universe keeps throwing unwanted surprises his way, making rest difficult. He just wants to make his (now rather large) family believe that he’ll be okay. Because he is, for he has to be.

Story ratings: No archive warnings apply, Teen and Up Audiences, and General/Non-Ship Focused

Chapter Summary: Cetacea tells Olimar about some data that it has been decoding.

Sorry for another short chapter, I just didn't need something longer to get this idea across. The next few chapters are also shorter for similar reasons, but the end is also coming up so they should lengthen out again for it!

Read on Ao3 here!

===

"Captain Olimar?"

"Yes, Cetacea?"

"... I don't mean to alarm you but, uh, could you perhaps close the door...?"

Olimar was sitting in his office at home, getting ready for when he would soon have to return to work. He wasn't... Thrilled by the update, to say the least, but he had no choice in the matter unfortunately. He'd still have to go back to work despite the aching protests of his still healing body. He was uncertain about why Cetacea would want the office door shut, but he nervously stood and closed it as requested. He then turned to the little hub on his desk.

"Okay, what is it?"

"It's about when I was offline. See, we ships have a feature meant to help us still collect data even when ruined as my hull was. It's intended to catch acts of vandalism and space pirates."

That made Olimar raise an eyebrow as he leaned against the wall. "So, you could still "see" and "hear" even then? Were you still... a-aware?"

"To answer your second question: no. These emergency systems run on the bare minimum necessities. So I was not aware that I was off until I was turned back on again. Though, even if I was, I wouldn't be in any sort of pain."

Olimar looked away then. "I - I know but... s-still."

"Sir, please do not worry. We cannot feel pain, or abandonment, or anything else for that matter. We are merely complex AI, not truly self-aware people."

The captain only made a weird sound of discontent at that.

With a sigh, the ship's AI continued; "The catch to this system is that the data takes a while to decode. I've been back online for twelve days already, and have only now been able to access this information. And what I saw was..." it then trailed off, pausing for a few moments, before finishing with "You may want to sit down for this."

That made Olimar's ears pin back as he slowly walked around his desk and sat back in his chair. "W-What happened, was it bad?"

Cetacea remained quiet for perhaps too long before responding with "I think so, but I'm uncertain."

Olimar took in a shaky breath, willing himself calm. "O-Okay. What is it?"

"Well..."

===

It was a rainy day in the Garden of Hope, Cetacea's old hull laying broken in the mud, its parts whirling away weakly. The area had recently been picked clean of fruits by the Koppaite crew, and as such neither they nor the pikmin were to be found here.

Something else, however, was here, picking over the ruins of its old home.

The wraith was fairly small, actually, and dusty purple in color. A long hole stretched down its back, not unlike the one the Plasm Wraith had. It seemed to sing to itself as it looked over the remains of the mireclops, soon plucking the various flowers growing on its corpse. It seemed at peace, almost enjoying itself as it continued to cradle flowers in one of its four arms.

The peace wasn't to last for long, however.

A second wraith soon slithered in, a long snake-like tail present where its legs should have been. It was larger, clear crystal in color, and had horn-like protrusions on its head. Upon seeing the smaller wraith, it let out a loud screech, an indescribable yet distinctly unholy sound. The purple one dropped its flowers, soon screeching in return. The two wraiths slowly circled each other, a low rumble emitting from each. They seemed to just stare and growl at each other for the longest time.

Then, in a swift move, one of the clear wraith's arms crystalized as it dashed towards the other. The small purple one dodged with ease, a cloud of spores soon surrounding it. The clear one, however, was unaffected by it. As it began to seemingly laugh, the purple one turned to flee. The clear one grabbed it, crystalizing its arms again to gain a better grip, before slamming it against the ground. Before the purple wraith could recover, the clear one morphed its crystal arm to have a clawed hand with which it stabbed into the purple one with. The smaller wraith let out an agonized screech as the horned one ripped out a dusty purple cube from within it. It then used its new claws to penetrate the cube, black goop spilling out of the fresh wounds. Soon after that, the purple wraith went still, then melted into a small puddle on the ground.

The crystal casing around the clear wraith's arm vanished then, a tendril wrapped around the purple cube. The wraith then absorbed the cube, which slowly dissolved away within the wraith. After a few moments, the clear wraith let out a cloud of spores for no discernible reason.

Seemingly happy with itself now, the wraith left.

===

Olimar was left frozen after Cetacea finished its story. It took the captain a long time to say anything at all as he stared blankly at the wall. Eventually, he shakily started with "S-S-So there... There's more wr... W-wraiths..."

"Affirmative, captain."

"And they... They kill each other."

"I am not sure what the motivation was. If it was predation, or a territorial dispute, or something else. But yes, they can and do seem to kill each other."

Olimar was quiet for a few more moments before shakily asking "And when they do, they.... They gain the others' powers."

"That appears to be the case. The spores were identical to each other as far as I could tell."

"Is that why they kill, then? For power?" He asked. The wraiths were, as far as he could tell, just like people. But they also weren't, they didn't act quite right. Like a Hocotation infected with rabies. Even that, however, didn't feel like an apt description. Regardless, killing for the sake of power sounded like something they were capable of.

"... I can add that to the list of theories." Was Cetacea's eventual reply. "We have no proof of anything thus far."

Olimar merely nodded in response, lost in his own thoughts. Then, in a quiet voice, he asked "So how many wraiths did the Plasm Wraith kill?"

Cetacea didn't answer that question.

"It had so many abilities. Fire, water, crystal, electricity, illusions... At least four others killed, then, more if I'm unaware of other abilities it may have..."

And it has captured him. Kept him. Cared for him. Hurt him. Worried over him. Nearly killed him.

The two didn't exchange any more words, both merely silent as Olimar's head reeled with countless possibilities and worries.

But now, he found himself hung up on one question.

What was the Plasm Wraith's original ability?

#pikmin #fan fiction #pikmin fan fiction #star touched au #pikmin star touched #captain olimar #borb writes #borb draws

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thefamilyeldritchabomination · 7 months

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The Wayfarer: Halloween Special Pt. 5

“No, we’re going home and having a long hard talk about your behavior from tonight. You gave everyone a good scare with that stunt.” Dolly scolded, following Envy’s lead of walking back home after tonight’s events as more screeching erupted from the little bag of organs.

“Well that and where on earth did she learn to tie others' ripped out hair into her own hair as a trophy.” Envy added as they were pretty impressed that Carmilla was able to do something like that on her own.

“Envy! Dolly! You’ve found Carmilla!” Cried out Lust as the groups met back up at the halfway point.

“We sure did, we’re not going back to the lab until after Halloween has passed.” Envy coldly stated, still not thrilled with having to deal with their literal rotting father.

“What happened at the lab and WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO CARMILLA!?” Lust’s eyes grew wide at the horrific sight of Carmilla in her war regalia.

“She had a violence driven candy theft spree from the look of things.” Dolly answered honestly, her voice having to be louder than normal due to the screeching child.

“God damn it, her parents are going to have a melt down from the phone calls tomorrow…I need to get my mind off this, Envy, tell me what happened at the lab.” Lust wasn’t looking forward to explaining to Carmilla’s parents about the rampage their kid went on.

“Hohenheim has the worst case of brain rot imaginable, he wants flesh to cover those disgusting bones of his.” Envy answered in a very flat tone over everything they had to go through.

“....He needs to be exterminated then if that’s the case.” Lust looked at Envy after hearing that terrible news.

“We’ll hunt him down during the Yule and Sheepmas season, right now, I just need to recuperate.” Envy gave Lust the look of a homunculus who has had a bit of a day already and wasn’t wanting to deal with more.

“It’s going to be alright Envy, we’ll have mulled blackberry mead for tonight, that’s something we all could use right now.” Dolly patted Envy on the back to comfort them after having to interact with their absolute disaster of a father.

“That sounds like a good deal to me, Fairytale. I definitely could use a cup or two of something hard after this.” Envy felt a bit relieved at being offered something nice to drink, not wanting to think too hard on Hohenheim at the moment.

“We should head back then, Greed is likely having to deal with the incoming phone calls from the events of tonight.” Lust reasoned as she directed Gluttony on the path back to the ancient family household.

Not wanting to stay out as long as they had to, Envy, Dolly, and the horrible lions followed the trick or treat search team back up to the household now that little Carmilla had been located. It wasn’t even an argument that Carmilla would be made to stay in her bedroom for the rest of the night given what she had done and the Halloween party had been turned into one for the Homunculi instead. Greed, as Lust had predicted, was dealing with the flood of angry phone calls from very upset parents of the children that Carmilla had attacked during that night. It was also clear that there would be police involvement after the series of vicious attacks over some candy along with a visit of child protection due to the concerning behavior pattern displayed. It was a whole new can of worms that the Mancer Family would have to deal with as Freddy hoped a proper psychological evaluation would be mandatory for Carmilla and her rather disturbing behavior. With everything that had and will happen later on, things were for the most part, a rather pleasant party with periodic monitoring of Carmilla to prevent any more escapes. Dorian, Ernest, and Gluttony went to enjoy the horror movie marathon on the television of some new melter flick that had come out to television just recently. Envy and Dolly were sitting next to one another during the party, sipping their mulled blackberry mead as they processed the encounter they’ve had with the rotting Hohenheim of Light only a few hours ago.

“Think you want to bring up getting some dogs with Freddy? I think he’d jump at the chance to do just that.” Dolly asked as apparently the dog thing was working well for the Elric brothers at their own homes to keep Hohenheim out.

“Sure he won’t throw his back out from joy jumping?” Envy couldn’t help but make a jab at Freddy being nearly a hundred years old at this point.

“He’s pretty fit for his age, I’m sure Freddy could do a backflip if he wanted to. On a serious note, do we?” Dolly joked a bit before turning back to being serious about getting some dogs for the Meat Wool Alchemy Lab. “Yeah we should, if the dogs are working for my younger brothers, then it should work for us here.” Envy sighed a bit as they looked into their mug of mulled blackberry mead as they didn’t want their father around anymore.

“Then it’s settled, we'll talk to Freddy then and hopefully we’ll get some dogs for the lab.” Dolly took a sip from her mug with the plan settled on getting dogs.

“Good, I don’t want him coming around anymore.” Envy said as their mind was fully made up on the whole situation. “I don’t blame you, though, I’m surprised, you weren’t fully on board with killing him off.” Dolly admitted as she would’ve been sure Envy would want to slaughter the moldy mobile bones called Hohenheim.

“I’m existing in the best life possible right now, I guess that was the best revenge I could’ve hoped for. Just, for now, let the bastard suffer for a while longer from his own undoings.” Envy smiled faintly but warmly as they felt more accomplished in what they have now.

“I’m proud of you, Wayfarer, you’ve truly come a long way from where you once were all those decades ago.” Dolly smiled warmly as Envy did manage to truly grow up and past the need for revenge at all costs.

“It wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for Lust, Gluttony, Hughes, Greed, the Elrics, Ernest, Dorian, and you. You guys really did save me back then from a pretty back portion of my existence.” Envy glanced over to Dolly as they smiled fully that this is the existence Envy was enjoying now.

“They were still all your own achievements made by your own efforts, that is something to be truly proud about.” Dolly reaffirmed Envy a bit on a lot of the changes they went through to get to this point was by Envy’s own efforts as well as the help they were given.

Envy and Dolly shared a rather warm laugh for a bit before going back to enjoy the party since tomorrow they’ll have to face the music with Carmilla’s parents. While there were some concerned about Hohenheim pulling himself back together, others felt given how quickly Carmilla managed to shatter him, it’d be a long while before Hohenheim would pose a threat. The only thing they would be more worried about was how to handle the future legal proceedings and the parents’ reaction to a possible visit by Child Services. As the Homunculi Halloween party went on, out in the cold night air of Walden into the forest was a deranged singing of some sort going on. A campsite had been laid to waste as equipment, clothes, and supplies had been strewn about as mangled, bloody skeletons of campers laid underneath the crescent moon. Hohenheim had reassembled himself from his terrible encounter with a candy crazed four year old as he started fitting the stolen flesh onto his own bones like a grotesque swimsuit fitting. Now once again dressed in flesh to keep those rotting bones warm from the sharp coldness of Walden’s winds, Hohenheim started a hideous dance on the snow to celebrate being covered once more.

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1-million-interests · 4 months

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My Favourite Book of the 2023 - CHOUETTE

Chouette (2021 - also French for 'owl') by Claire Oshetsky is one of the best books I have ever read. Any one who knows me knows that I am a fan of all things 'female-rage', particularly anything involving women embracing their primality through paralleling their lives with animals (shoutout to my favourite book of 2022; Nightbitch). Not only that, but I am a sucker for fantasy-realism. There is truly nothing better than reading a book where nothing is certain and reality is a dream-like blur and thinking "ok... what the fuck is going on". This thought completely encompasses my entire journey through Chouette.

The plot follows a woman named Tiny, who after having a dream in which she is making love to a female owl, finds herself pregnant. Upon giving birth to this half owl half human baby we learn that it has sever physical and psychological defects, with its appearance and behaviour resembling that of an owl. While Tiny loves and embraces her owlet, her husband, who Tiny refers to as a "dog-person", only sees it as a problem that needs to be fixed, attempting to strip it of all bird-like qualities so that it may join him and his pack of dog-family. Now you can see why I had no clue what the fuck was going on.

While my recounting of the plot may seem absurd and confusing and too complicated to bother reading, I assure you that this is where most of the joy from reading the text comes from. What starts as merely a stream of consciousness spiel that serves to create the world of the text as it exists in reality slowly turns into a whirlwind of dreams and hallucinations and paranormal experiences and synesthesia that leaves the reader having to determine for themselves what is "real" and what is only occurring in Tiny's mind. The absolute peak of this, for me, would be when Tiny gives birth to Chouette and her birth defects are described, both through the way Tiny sees and describes her, and how the adults in the text (Tiny's husband, in-laws, day-care owners, etc.) react to her appearance and behaviour. What Tiny describes as a beak, her husband describes as the absence of a nose, and when Chouette screeches, her father only hears a scream. Trying to create a complete image of Chouette in your mind is such a difficult, horrifying, and thrilling task, and this book will have you trying to wrap your head around reality as it exists to Tiny's husband until you just give up and embrace Tiny's reality (because honestly, it's much more fun).

One of the most spectacular aspects of the book for me is Tiny's connection to music. Tiny herself is a concert cellist and slowly begins to love her career and love of the instrument after giving birth to Chouette. Frequently throughout the novel Oshetsky references classical symphonies that are familiar to Tiny (while also having an index of all the music mentioned in chronological order at the beginning of the book in case the reader wants to listen along) as music she has either played or enjoyed. This music always relates to Tiny's present state of mind or the situation around her. Personally, I love when authors relate the female experience to the art they create (which can also be seen in my favourite book in the whole world; Cat's Eye) and how it becomes an extension of their subconscious desires. You'll have to read the book to fully understand how Oshetsky uses it because it truly is captivating.

One criticism I have of Chouette is its characterisation of Tiny. While she is our narrator and one of the few characters in the book with a name, her behaviour is still quite 2-dimensional. If you read the book you'll get what I mean. It seems that at times she is annoyingly submissive, allowing everyone to call her Tiny (which might not even be her real name!) and poke fun at how she's just this sensitive little woman who's going through a bit of post-partum stress and is really nothing to worry about why she couldn't even hurt a fly! However, instead of feeling empowered by her second-hand primality that she receives from her owl-baby and the maternal strength and love she feels she continues to remain painfully submissive, even when her husband attempts to covert her bird into a dog. There were honestly so many moments in this text where I felt like picking up Tiny by her shoulders, giving her a hard shake, and telling her to man the fuck up. For a book that centers entirely around Tiny's descent into delusion, desire, depression and anger, there really should be a point where she breaks out of this stereotypically gentle female role, takes charge, and protects her baby, no matter the cost.

In conclusion, if you are a fan of feminism and magical realism then this is the book for you. The blended parallel between women and animals is such a unique and intriguing approach to feminism and female rage as it touches on the darker sides of the female experience that audiences and authors tend to stay away from. This harsh and subversive take on maternal love, the female experience, and the feminine response and connection to nature and animals is a riveting read and absolutely wins the title of my favourite book of the year.

I can't wait to find my woman gone feral book of 2024.

#books #chouette #book review #book recommendations #reading #writing #female rage #girlhood #feminism

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bultaonene · 6 months

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tk violinist tae x prince gguk

"Have you seen the new musician?"

Jeongguk hasn't. His mother, the queen, is an admirer of the arts, so it isn't surprising for artists of every kind to reside in the palace for a few months or more.

The new violinist has been the talk of the palace.

From the rumors he's incredibly talented, his music so stunning that people are moved to tears. Jeongguk has heard his fair share of extraordinary musicians, so he's a bit skeptic. Nevertheless, he's curious.

"Does he really deserve all the praise?" he asks, not to be mean. He's simply wondering if people aren't exaggerating just because - from what he heard, of course - the musician is young and charming, flashing smiles to everyone in the palace. He seems to be a bit of a wild card, treating servants and nobles with the same amount of respect. Jeongguk admires him for this, don't get him wrong. But it's easy to get praised if everyone loves you.

"I've heard that your mother asked for an encore every single time he played before her. And you know the Queen isn't that easy to please."

Jimin is right. The queen gives an opportunity to everyone and she's fair, but she's also strict and demanding. Her admiration and respect aren't easily bought.

Jeongguk doesn't think about the violinist for a while after that, swarmed in his studies. Namjoon is a strict teacher, sometimes a bit too nagging for the young prince's taste. Jeongguk isn't that enthusiastic about learning every article of their country's legal code and his tutor doesn't appreciate his attempts at escaping every time he deems the subject too stuffy.

It's during one of these escapades that Jeongguk sees him.

It's autumn. Trees are getting stripped of their leaves and the palace's garden is tinted in yellow, oranges and brown. He hears shrill, excited screams in the distance and it's what prompts him to get closer, curious about the ruckus in the usually tranquil garden.

There's a man, his back turned to Jeongguk. Even if the slope of his shoulders the only feature he can observe, Jeongguk is sure this must be the infamous violinist. Before him stands the cause of the noise: 3 little girls and one boy are excitedly jumping up and down, yelling "Please! Please!" and giggling. The violinist relents to their pleas, it seems. With a flourish, he puts his instrument on his shoulders and rolls back his shoulders, the children getting quiet in hushed awe.

Jeongguk doesn't get all the excitement. He loves music, but when he was younger he found violin pieces long and boring. He doesn't think like this anymore of course, but he doesn't know why kids would be excited over dramatic, sorrowful music. Even the happiest pieces aren't that exciting, usually.

He understands as soon as the musician starts playing.

It isn't the kind of music you hear in the palace. It's street music, lively and happy, fast and bright. He heard that the violinist was a noble himself, educated by the best maestros in the country, but those have to be rumors. This doesn't feel like something you learn in stuffy classrooms.

The music is thrilling, enchanting. Before he can stop himself, Jeongguk is approaching the group with a smile.

The children are screeching in joy, jumping and dancing to the music. They aren't alone: the musician himself is moving, turning and stomping his foot with the beat. The music never falters. Jeongguk keeps a bit of distance not to disturb the scene, but he can't help bouncing with the beat. He almost joins the kids to dance with them.

After a crescendo, the violinist dramatically ends the song. The kids start clapping furiously, too young to know the word "encore" but wishing for more all the same. And Jeongguk wants the same - he's clapping so fast his palms are starting to hurt when one of the girls notices him.

"Taetae, look! He liked it too!"

'Taetae' turns towards him and it's then, under yellowing leaves and among screaming kids, that Jeongguk feels like he found what music looks like. It looks like Kim Taehyung.

---

They start meeting in the garden whenever they are free, Jeongguk asking Taehyung millions of questions and getting asked even more in return. They spend their time discovering each other, first with words and gazes, then with soft touches. Taehyung feels like a winter morning, when you're warm and cozy and you can act like a child, burrowing under soft covers and enjoying just existing in the warmth of your bed.

And to Taehyung, Jeongguk feels like summer - scorching and intense, with the wind blowing your hair and the smell of fresh cut grass, with the taste of the sun on your tongue.

Taehyung creates a piece for Jeongguk, a sweet melody that sounds like a promise. He plays it often at the prince's request and every time they fall in love a bit more, eyes sparkling. They spend so much time together that if you were to search for one you could ask about the other, glued to the hip and orbiting each others like planets.

But not everyone is happy about them. Rumors about the violinist seducing the gullible, naive prince for his gold start spreading like wildfire. They ignore them for as long as they can, but it gets harder to do the more time passes. They are young, inexperienced, and people hold that against them. "You don't know what true love is like," they tell them. "How can you be so sure if you know nothing about the world?" they ask.

The fact is, they aren't wrong.

"I want to travel. Learn more about music."

It hurts. Jeongguk feels like his heart is being torn apart and Taehyung is crying, too. They are too attached to one another, too focused on each other to pay attention to anything else. Taehyung needs to reach and grasp whatever is outside the castle's grounds, and Jeongguk has to do the same. They both refuse to be trapped forever in the palace, but when they are both there the suffocating walls feel like heaven, each other's presence enough to be happy inside a golden cage. They want to learn more. And so they do.

Taehyung leaves at the beginning of spring. He leaves behind a music box with their melody trapped inside. Jeongguk treasures it like it's his own crown.

The prince leaves after another month. He learns more than he did in the last 19 years of his life and he accepts that one day, he'll be king. He grows and matures and when he comes back home, he stands taller, more confident. His people welcome him home.

Jeongguk is glad to be back. But this isn't quite home anymore. There's something missing and he knows exactly what it is. Artists of every kind keeping going in and out the palace, but no violin enchants him the same way.

He wasn't sure at the time, young and easily influenced, but he's certain now. He loves Taehyung. He always has. Autumn comes again and the palace garden is tinted in warm tones once again, and Jeongguk feels like ages have passed.

There is a chapel built inside the palace's grounds. Jeongguk isn't religious but Taehyung loved to just sit and bask in the silence, watch the windows and doors decorated with stained glass. Liked to play with the sunrays that got dyed when passing through the glass.

It's silent, so when music starts to play outside, he immediately hears it. He turns towards the door, his heart in his throat, his eyes wide. Filled with hope. The person is barely a silhouette, unrecognizable when hidden behind stained glass. He can see them moving their arms, holding a violin and producing a melody that he knows. He has been listening to it for a year.

Jeongguk runs. When he opens the door, Taehyung is smiling.

#taekook #violinist taehyung #prince jeongguk

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littl3-val3ntine · 2 years

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every breath you take ❥ edward nashton

GET IT ??2 LIKE THE POLICE SONG?2?? WHERE THEY GO "i'll be watching you..."

anyways :')

《♡》

summary // riddler always has everything planned, from the moment his plot begins up until the day after it has happened. he expects himself to be able to expect everything, until his mind is taken elsewhere during a routine stakeout on the police response to his latest hit...

warnings // stalking, profanity, mentions of violence and death, so very angsty... part 2 is much better i promise

author's note // gOD I FUCKinG love the edward nashton sees pretty person and goes absolutely feral trope... so good n nice. i do not condone stalking. he's creepy af in this, but i'm mentally ill so i dig that! also, eddie's a journalist in this, which i believe is canon as of the 2022 movie, but if i'm wrong deal with it ig LMFAO sorry

《♡》

The rain pounds, rhythmic, against the windshield of the car, interrupted only by the periodic screeching of faulty wipers. The figure behind the wheel slumps down into his damp coats, now finding himself faced with the first dilemma of the night he hadn't prepared for.

Does he leave the wipers on, letting the sound bombard his ears until it inevitably sends him into yet another unjustified, white-hot rage? Or, does he shut them off, and sacrifice what might be his only chance at a good view of the show? He tugs his lip between his teeth, rolling his head back against the seat theatrically as he ponders his options.

Squeeaaak.

He turns the radio up just a little bit louder, and rolls up the driver's side window all the way. It drowns out the sound, but only just barely enough to satisfy him. As tires squeal a few streets ahead and the avenue around him is painted red and blue, it occurs to him that he might not even be sitting out here for very long anyway.

Men pour from their police cars into the intersection, losing their typical law-enforcing rigidness to the chaos that has just been wrought upon Gotham. Even with the radio up, the windows shut, and the god-awful sound of the wipers, Nashton could hear them barking orders to one another from his place a few streets down. It was everything he'd expected, the exact image that played in his mind some nights ago when he sat awake scribbling the details of this exact plan out in his notebook. The place, the time, the disorderly yelling, the panic— hell, even the rain. Everything is falling into place, right before his very eyes.

And it thrills him. The show has officially begun.

A delighted smile creeps across his face, his eyes widening in childlike glee. It was these moments, he decides then, that he lived for. He reaches for his backpack on the passenger seat and fumbles for his binoculars and remote. He's just a few seconds behind his schedule— the time spent basking in his genius was, admittedly, not accounted for in the scheme— and if this is truly to work he must act fast. With one hand he yanks out the binoculars, and his fingers graze the cool plastic of the detonator right as he hears the first cue.

"Come out with your hands up! Step out of the vehicle!" It's muffled by the distance and the steady downpour, but he knows it when he hears it. In milliseconds he has the binoculars raised to his eyes, his sights locked in, laserfocused, on the scene unfolding in the street.

His symbol glares at him from the side of the van halted in the center of the intersection. The spray paint bleeds a bit in the rain, but he almost likes it better that way. Nevertheless, he knows the paint job was... temporary, anyway.

"I will not repeat myself again! Show me you hands!" Nashton licks his lips. His grip tightens dangerously around the detonator, watching the officer approach the dummy in the driver's seat.

"Sir, can you hear me! Do you need medical attention?" the officer calls from a disappointingly safe distance. Nashton predicted a standoff, but it's still just as much of a letdown as if he hadn't. He pulls out the remote and sets it in his lap as he hears a chorus of voices calling for an EMS, faced now with the weight of the three long minutes and, give or take, twenty-eight seconds it takes an ambulance to travel from Gotham Community Hospital to Grange Street— with light traffic, of course. It was commuting hours, after all.

Now antsy, Edward scans the crowd that's gathered around his scene. A morbid sense of accomplishment pools low in his gut as he takes in not only the size of the crowd, but the state of it. Men, women, and children, from all walks of life, all gathered on the corner of Grange and Second to watch his story unfold. On each face are eyes like saucers, and mouths hanging delightfully with anxiety or moving hastily, asking questions. His eyes drift across the crowd, not stopping on any face in particular. He knows he can't allow himself to humanize these people, not with the knowledge of what is about to come.

When his gaze lands on you the first time, toward the front of the pack and forced between an officer and a police barricade, his mind doesn't immediately register what he's looking at. It takes a second, maybe two, until his head snaps back to your direction in a double-take.

And there you are. Front and center in his mind now, tucked into a down raincoat and clutching your journalist's pad to your chest, there you are. Watching with baited breath as the Riddler's latest explosive, proudly his most powerful yet, sits in a van not even five feet from you. Blissfully unaware of your proposed imminent death, and without any realistic means of escape once it arrives.

The ambulance comes roaring in, and the crowd parts, a Red Sea of future civilian casualties, to allow its passage. Panic lodges in his throat as he gropes for the remote detonator. His time is running out. He knows that. Law enforcement is going to discover the doll, and then they're going to open the back of the van. The show must go on.

His breathing is shallow as the first EMT approaches the driver's side of the vehicle in his peripheral vision. Somewhere deep within himself, he knows he must detonate the bomb, but no longer is he prepared for it. A new scene plays in his mind as he's paralyzed there, his sight locked on your face. In his head its beautiful shape contorts with unprecedented fear, illuminated by the burst of firelight from the backside of the van. When they pry it open, you'll be the among first to see the wires and tanks of gas. Will it register in your head what is to come before you're wiped from this plane of existence by flaming death? What will the office look like, decorated by your memorial— the flowers, the photos, the obituary? How could he ever show his face at work again, knowing exactly who is at fault for your empty desk?

"No," he pleads into the empty car. "Please, move..." His thoughts are frantic, running through his options too quickly to effectively address any of them.

The paramedics open the driver's side door. The doll falls out.

"Move, just fucking move!" Detonator in hand, he pounds on the dashboard. His vision is blurred, either by new tears pooling in his eyes or sheer unbridled panic. "MOVE! MOVE! FUCKING MOVE!"

He positions his thumb over the button on the remote as police and S.W.A.T. encircle the vehicle. Deciding he can't watch, he leans forward and rests his head on the steering wheel. All of the yelling from outside, the rain, the classical music from the radio, all of it— it ceases to exist against his sobbing. He sobs so loud and so hard he feels his ribs becoming sore.

He knows what he must do. The show must go on.

Click. Boom.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

There was no more elaborate escape. No starting the car and speeding off into the night, high off of the adrenaline of it all. No victorious joyride while the news report plays quietly in the background. None of it.

He lost track of how long he'd spent there, face pressed into the steering wheel, remote in hand. He'd cried until his entire body collapsed and his tear ducts went dry.

When he finally lifts his head, his forehead is sticky with sweat and his neck cracks uncomfortably. He lets the remote fall to the floorboard, unclenching his hand for the first time in what must have been hours. With one destination in mind, he turns the key in the ignition and the car roars to life.

He hesitates, frozen again as he stares at the intersection before him. The site of the blast was impressive to say the least, still blackened with soot despite the rainfall. His eyes drift to approximately where you were standing, and a chill shoots through his body to find the ground completely charred. What might have been left of the van was already cleaned and hauled off. It’s as if it never happened.

Maybe it didn’t happen. Maybe if he just goes about his night as he usually would— stopping by your apartment, sitting in his car across the street for an hour or so, watching you through the street-facing window as you sit at your desk and run through computer work or have your dinner— he can pretend that he didn’t just blast you into a million little pieces in the middle of a crowded intersection. With enough convincing, he can almost believe that the sweet soul who offered him coffee once on his third day at the press office, who still smiles at him when they catch his gaze lingering, who moves with beauty and intrigue like he’d never witnessed before is not truly lost in this universe quite yet.

He was never able to understand quite what it was that drew him into you. It was instinctual, primal, and so very sudden. Once he realized his obsession, he supposed that it was just the way of things. Flies go to honey, moths chase the light, and Edward Nashton occupies every available thought with his breathtaking coworker. Now though, as he’s speeding down Gotham’s dreary side streets, he finally gets it.

All he’s ever seen in people is their worst. Why else would he spend so much energy cleansing the city of its scum?

But no matter how much time he spent observing you, listening to you, reading your work, or turning you over and around and inside out in his mind, there wasn’t a single flaw that presented itself. Not even your mortal shortcomings sounded any alarm in his head. It was maddening, trying to find something he could theoretically dislike about you, anything to shake this schoolboy crush that had manifested in his conscience, because nothing ever came to light. You’d only ever been kind to him. You’d only ever been beautiful. You’d only ever been absolutely perfect.

And he knew you’d always be. Even in death, he knew that this version of you that is forever preserved in his mind is just as perfect and real as when you were alive. That’s the conclusion he comes to as he sits in his usual spot across from your apartment tonight, staring up into your window and mumbling his shaky apologies under his breath.

It hasn’t set in yet. The room is dark, and the curtains are drawn. You aren’t home.

He lets himself fall quiet as he listens to the city around him. How empty it seems without you in it. The radio babbles on to fill the silence.

…inside a van on the intersection at Grange and Main, six officers and three civilians were hospitalized. While one of the officers has reportedly succumbed to his injuries, his name has not yet been released to the public…

He stares at the radio system, breath picking up.

He saw the aftermath of the explosion. The sheer sprawl of the immediate blast should have killed anyone within a radius of seven feet. According to his evaluation, he expected at the very least three deaths on-site and five more officer hospitalizations. His brow furrowed, deep in thought, as he ran through the events of the night.

He parked his car in position. Law enforcement arrived. They called for an ambulance. EMT discovers the dummy. They opened up the van. He hesitated, but he detonated the bomb.

He hesitated.

“Oh my God,” he breathes, eyes wide with disbelief, “It didn’t work. It didn’t fucking work.”

With trembling fingers, he shoves the key back into the ignition and starts the car again. The radio continues.

…no civilian deaths have been reported, and the three victims remain in stable condition. In other news, Gotham and surrounding cities will be seeing a temperature drop…

《♡》《♡》《♡》《♡》《♡》《♡》《♡》

PART TWO

#boy do i love the idea of stalker!eddie #love it love it lovelvoleov #so good #the riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton imagine #cliffyfics

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gay-salt-amber · 2 years

Text

Twisted Wonderland as incorrect quotes

Yall know who gave me this idea but ill tag them anyway: the lovely @blackbutlerfandomnerddomain u-u

Cheka: I am very small and I have no money, so you can imagine the kind of stress that I'm under.

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*Everyone is playing a board game together* Floyd: I will put 'A' down to make 'A'. Cater: I will add onto your 'A' to make 'AT'. Che'nya: I will add onto your 'AT' to make 'RAT'. Riddle: I will add onto your 'RAT' to make 'BIOSTRATAGRAPHIC'. Che'nya: *flips the board*

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Leona: *Gasp* Jack: wHAT?? Leona: What if soy milk is just milk introducing itself in Spanish? Jack: *inhales* Ruggie, in another room with Epel: Why can I hear screeching?

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*Something crashes* Neige: Shoot- Vil: *running into the room in a panic* WHAT FELL?! Rook: *walking by the room calmly* What died?

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*Silver and Sebek casually searching around the room* Lilia: Hey Silver, what’re you guys looking for? Silver: Our will to live. *Esther walks into the room* Sebek: Oh, there it is.

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Idia: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons! Lilia: Bet you I can! Azul: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

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Floyd: I'm hot, I’m tall, I'm gay, and I'm on my theatre kid arc.

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Kalim: I want a bf. Jamil: Do you mean best friend, boyfriend or bread feast? Because you’re being really vague here.

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Riddle: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy. Che'nya: I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep. Riddle: I said within reason, Che'nya. How about I murder that guy? Che'nya: So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't? Riddle: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

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*The squad is having dinner together* Leona: Ruggie, can you pass the salt? Ruggie: *Throws Epel across the table*

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Rook: Are you sure this is the right direction? Neige: Certainly, I'm as sure as I am honest! Vil: In that case, we're definitely lost.

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Idia: I know you’re deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are. Azul: It’s not a joke. Azul: *sniffles* Azul: I’m a legit snack.

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Che'nya: I did it! I memorized everything in the book! I'm gonna ace this test! Riddle: Ok, Che'nya, I'll give you one more question before you go. What ended in 1918? Che'nya: 1917. Riddle: ...You're ready.

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Ruggie: I'm going to take a shower, I'll be right back. Leona: Why are you telling me this, I don't care. Leona, right after Ruggie leaves the room: I miss them already.

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Epel: Alright, listen up you little s***s. Epel: Not you Jack. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

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Jamil: I need to dye my hair. Kalim: ... Jamil: Or get another tattoo. Kalim: ... Jamil: Or a new piercing. Kalim: Why? Jamil: To, you know, appease the mental breakdown gods.

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Jamil: *speaking Spanish* Kalim: I know, I know. Ace: You speak Spanish? Kalim: No. I just know the phrase, 'this is all your fault' in every language Jamil speaks.

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Esther: *looks at Silver* Esther: Baby boy. Baby. Esther: *looks at Azul* Esther: Evil.

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Cater: We need to open this locked door. Kalim, give me your credit card. Kalim: Here. Cater, pocketing it: Thanks. Lilia, break down the door.

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Malleus: I have met some of the most insufferable people. But they also met me.

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Idia: In terms of, like, instant relief, cancelling plans is like heroin. It is an amazing feeling. Such instant joy.

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Deuce: I used to sit around and think about what to do about quicksand! I never thought about how to handle real problems in adult life. I was never like, "Oh, what's it gonna be like when relatives ask to borrow money?"

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Deuce: Come on Ace, do it for our friendship. You can't put a price on that... Ace: Yes I can, dear. Fifty dollars.

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Ruggie: honk. Epel: WHAT. Ruggie: HONK. Epel: WHAT DOES HONK MEAN THIS TIME YOU WHIMSICAL PIECE OF S***?????

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Leona: You're violent. Ruggie: Yeah but I'm also short(ish) and that's adorable.

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Ruggie, watching Jack & Epel panic : What's going on? Leona: Jack is having a midlife crisis and Epel is just having a crisis

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Vil: I’ve only had Rook for a day and a half but if anything happened to them I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.

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Kalim: *slams books down in front of Ace* Kalim: Boil up some Mountain Dew. It’s gonna be a long night. Ace: You could of said literally anything else. Kalim: Cauldron boil and cauldron bubble, Baja Blast to fuel my trouble. Ace: I’m going to just stop challenging you when you say random s***. I won’t win. I realize this now.

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*Malleus teaching Idia to drive and taking Azul along for the ride* Malleus: That's a pothole. To the left! Idia: Take it back now y'all *Drives into pothole* Azul, sticking their face into the front over the center console: Cha Cha real smooth. Idia: I don't think that's how the song goes. Malleus, crying and gripping the handle: Please just take me home. Idia: Country Roads. Azul: To the place. Idia and Azul in unison: I Belong! Malleus, crying harder: What the f***?

----------------

Hope yall liked these! They were so fun to generate (especially the Rook x Neige x Vil ones :D)-Amber

#Kalim x Jamil #Kalim x Jamil x Ace #Deuce x Ace #idia shroud #Idia x Azul x Malleus #Riddle x Che'nya #Riddle x Cater #Riddle x Floyd #epel x ruggie #Epel x Leona #Epel x Jack #Vil x Neige x Rook

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

This popped into my head and I couldn’t help myself especially since you guys love Ezra so much.

Harry was on fucking fire tonight.

By the end of the fourth inning he had hit two home runs and brought three other players into score with him.

The opposing team of the night, The Reds, weren’t thrilled due to their of hits off Harry’s near perfect pitches tonight.

It was all three boys in the stands with their mother tonight, watching their father play, and cheering wildly when he did something good.

It was only a matter of time before The Reds sought revenge against the arrogant, cocky player who would throw winks and chew his gum harshly with a sharp jaw.

It infuriates the team when he strikes out the third batter, steps onto one foot and clench his fist in victory with a shot-eating grin.

“Get the fuck outta here, give me a real team!” Harry hollers at the pissed off batter who slams his bat down and whips off his helmet.

Every knew Harry was riling the other team up until there was a bench-clearing brawl but his coaches couldn’t say much when he was carrying the team like he was.

He was The New York Yankees.

“Daddy swore,” Cash tells his mother solemnly, he had a bucket of popcorn in his lap that he was chewing away at.

“Yeah baby, remember what daddy says on the field we don’t repeat,” YN informs him, she didn’t want Harry not to be himself on the field but also hated when she saw Easton, in particular, pick up on his habits.

Like last week at peewee when his hit got caught in the outfield and he screeched, “That was a bad pitch!”

To the little league coach who was throwing basic underhand.

A little Harry in the making - the coach thought to himself.

When it’s Harry’s third turn up to bat, he has this lift to the corner of his lips as he raises his bat, a eyebrow raised teasingly at the pitcher.

The pitcher decides he’s had quite enough of the son of a bitch and hurls at 95 mph speedball right at Harry’s rib cage.

It knocks the wind out of him and toppled him over, hand coming to cup to the sore spot as the Yankees bench clears to confront the assailant.

“Fuckin’ shit - pussy can’t even play fair!” Harry roars, slowly raises up on his knees and pushes himself up.

Fuck - it hurt.

The medics rush out, lifting up his jersey, and prodding at the welt - his whole side tattoos of his babies names and footprints showing.

Harry grumbles unfriendly, “Fuck off, m’fine.”

They back up immediately and Harry launches out towards the pitcher who’s speaking loudly with the umpire.

“Worst player in fuckin’ history,” Harry seethes, coming up to shove him roughly before landing a blow to his ribs, “How’s that fuckin’ feel, scumbag?”

Then it explodes into a full on brawl.

Meanwhile, YN is attempting to soothe all three boys who are hysterical as soon as they saw their father get hit with a ball and then start the fight.

Easton and Cash are more use to it but they are still sniffling and whimper, clambering as close to their mama as possible.

It’s Ezra who is inconsolable, his wails so loud the pierced through the air as he panics for his father, chanting, “daddy, m’daddy! Hold me! Sad! Sad!”

YN’s heart sinks, hearing her three year old squeak out his emotions that he knows he needs to do when he feels anxious or overly emotional.

Throughout the commotion, Harry vaguely hears his baby’s cries - it’s like a natural instinct and the anger dissapates.

He instantly stops engaging, booming out, “Fuck off, need t’check on m’babies.”

“Styles, we need to talk,” The ump and his coach bark at him - tugging on his bloody jersey from a bleeding lip.

“And I said I need to go check on my children. Get your hands off of me now,” He seethes, lips snarled as his heart pangs at Ezra’s cries.

He manages to push his way out of the mob to let them continued fight and jog over to his family who is a rollercoaster of emotions.

Easton is teary but smiles, missing one of his front teeth, “You kicked their butts, daddy!”

Cash is clearly a bit more upset being spurred on by Ezra as he hiccups, he’s usually not their most cuddly one in public at five but whines and begs, “Hold me, please.”

Harry doesn’t even think about it before he’s reaching over and poping his son of his hip, brushing a stray curl from his forehead.

Then he looks at his littlest, his face splotchy, full lips shaking, quivering chest, and high-pitched sobs that shatter his heart.

“Daddy, sad! M’sad, hold me now,” Ezra cries, clutched tightly around his mother’s neck until Harry offers an arm and tugs him on the other hip.

Harry has a whole lot of baseball left to play - if he didn’t get ejected but always has time for his babies first.

“I see y’sad. Sad cause daddy got hurt and then daddy wasn’t bein’ very nice huh?” Harry murmurs to both boys, kissing Cash’s temple and then Ezra’s.

They both nod and Harry continues, “Scary too, right? Remember scary is when your tummy feels funny and you get worried because it makes you nervous.”

Ezra pipes up, “Scared, daddy.”

Harry knows he has to go back to the dugout.

YN interjects , “Come back t’mama. We can do a couple deep breathes to calm down and feel better, yea?”

“Best mama, love y’so much. M’sorry,” Harry frowns, kissing her softly before returning the kids to her and retreating to the dugout.

—

Harry was laid flat on his back, an ice pack laid of her side where YN had just massaged a CBD cream into the achey bruise.

“I feel like sucha bad dad when I act like that,” Harry mumbles, he was so bone exhausted from the game and his slight injury.

“Baby, s’your job. I wouldn’t want you to change who you are on the field. It got you where you were and you’ve been like that since the first game I watched you at in college,” YN replies soothingly, thumbing at his tight abdomen muscles.

“Still made the babies upset, fuckin’ kills me everytime I make Ezzie more upset or anxious,” Harry’s face crumbles a bit.

“It’s not your fault baby. We are doing everything to help him learn and cope. We do the therapy twice a week, talk about feelings all the time, and support him.”

“We’re pretty good parents, huh?” Harry brightens a little bit, “Good enough for me t’put another baby in you.”

YN giggles, “I’m literally not showered from the game, sweaty, dressed in a two day old shirt, and you have a injury and y’still trying to get it in.”

“Mama, Y’act like any of that couldn’t ever deter me from wanting to get it in. Y’just as sexy right now as when y’all dressed up.”

—

I would die for him like he’s the best right

#mlbrry #mlb!harry blurbs #mlb!harry

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taexual · 3 years

Text

TXT / another member unknowingly likes their girlfriend

warning: lowkey angst, i guess? but they’re mostly crackheads in this tbh

requested by anonymous.

↣ yeonjun

He’d spent the whole night talking about love and relationships with Taehyun, after they lied down for a minute on the couch in the recording studio. They’d been working the whole day – and magnitudes of writer’s block were involved – and their heads felt fuzzy.

And yet, when Taehyun came running down the hall the next morning, screeching, “I found it!”, and clutching his phone in his hands as if it was his most valued possession, Yeonjun was still very confused.

“Hmm?” he asked, extending a hand to prevent the younger boy from crashing into him, but he slowed down on his own, catching his breath.

“I found it! Her instagram—the girl I told you about—m-my crush?” Taehyun stuttered his way through an explanation. Or something that was supposed to be one. He already felt awkward enough talking about this during the day; the lack of oxygen in his lungs did not make this easier.

“Oh, yeah,” Yeonjun nodded – he’d asked him for a picture of his crush last night and Taehyun was forced to shamefully admit that he did not know where to find it, because he’d only seen the girl here – he assumed she was a staff member. “Well, show me!”

That was exactly what Taehyun did. And Yeonjun had never regretted asking anyone for anything more.

“T-that—” he was suddenly the one stuttering as your familiar features smiled at him from the screen of Taehyun’s phone. “That’s my girlfriend.”

The sort of silence that engulfed the two boys in the hallway right after Yeonjun said this was unlike anything they’ve ever experienced. Taehyun opened his lips to say something, but couldn’t decide between, what?, how? and, most importantly, why?!

“I—” he finally started to say, but Yeonjun shook his head and leaned in to lock Taehyun’s phone.

When the screen went dark, he declared, “we’ll never speak of this again.”

“I… don’t have a problem with that,” Taehyun agreed. His face was burning up with such intensity, he thought he would soon begin to radiate heat.

He was extremely conscious of the fact that, when he would unlock his phone next, the first picture he would see wouldn’t be his crush – it would be Yeonjun’s girlfriend.

“Well,” Yeonjun said then, inhaling deeply. He placed a hand around Taehyun’s shoulders and turned him around, guiding him towards the elevator. “Let’s go, then.”

A little concerned about the possessive grip he had on his shoulders, Taehyun spoke up slowly, “uh, okay. W-where are we going?”

“We,” Yeonjun said, pressing the elevator button with his free hand, his voice dead serious, “are getting you a new crush.”

↣ soobin

He was on his phone, thinking of lunch and minding his own business, when Beomgyu came barging into the changing room, nearly tripping over his own feet as he went.

“Hey! Listen!” he cried—thrilled—once he spotted Soobin on the leather couch, behind the clothing racks. “We know who Kai’s crush is!”

Putting his phone down, Soobin sighed. He knew that the excited glint in Beomgyu’s eye could only signal trouble.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“Nothing! We just pointed and guessed,” Beomgyu explained, laughing at the simplicity of the plan. “Anyway, he—”

This got Soobin’s attention. “Wait, pointed? Did you see her?”

Beomgyu was bouncing on his feet now, his enthusiasm suddenly overflowing when he confirmed that everyone in the group had, indeed, been wondering about the mysterious girl that left Kai frozen and speechless each time she posted something on her Instagram.

“Yeah!” Beomgyu said eagerly. “She’s here—she works here! Come with me.”

And Soobin did come because, despite disagreeing with their methods for extracting information from Kai, he was also curious about the crush that he’d heard so much about.

Funnily enough, the one thing that Soobin did not hear about this crush was that she was, actually, you.

“Oh,” was the most Soobin could say at the sight of you. Thankfully, you hadn’t noticed him yet – you were too busy trying to keep up with whatever Kai and Taehyun were talking to you about.

“Well, don’t look like that,” Beomgyu reprimanded, misunderstanding the expression on the older member’s face. “She’s very pretty.”

“No, she’s—I know that,” Soobin replied, growing mildly irritated. “She’s actually my—”

“Soobin!” you exclaimed, relief flooding over you at the sight of him. You’d already concluded that nor Taehyun, nor Kai knew that you were actually in a relationship with their friend, and with the way the conversation was progressing, you were afraid one of them was going to say something they regretted.

“She—you know her?” Beomgyu asked, stuck to the same spot in surprise, while Soobin made his way towards you.

“I do know her,” he replied, aware of the awkwardness his next words would bring, and, therefore, struggling to find the right way to say them, “we—she is my—we’re, uh, dating.”

The boys needed a minute – Kai felt like he needed a whole hour, really – to grasp this. They initially thought this was a prank – and the fact that it wasn’t funny somehow made more sense for Soobin to be the one who came up with it – but they could see the way Soobin took your hand. It was very natural and, clearly, not the first time you’d held hands.

“That’s—good for you!” Kai said, fighting off his initial shock and looking at you with an apologetic frown, “sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” Taehyun joined in. In support of Kai, he tried to shift the blame elsewhere, “but in our defense, your boyfriend is fully responsible for this.”

You snickered and looked over at Soobin who seemed almost outraged. “How is it my fault you’ve ambushed my girlfriend?!”

“You didn’t tell us about her!” Taehyun said, throwing his hands up.

Soobin rolled his eyes and then shot Kai a—discreet—worried look. But he was holding on fairly well, all things considered. The adrenaline of the moment definitely overshadowed whatever else Kai might have been feeling.

Beomgyu and Yeonjun only approached you a minute later – very clever of them both to stay away during the most awkward part of the conversation – and, as soon as the boys were all together, it stopped feeling so weird.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Yeonjun said, throwing a casual arm around Kai’s shoulders and feeling the way he exhaled in relief. “And we really hope you’ll join us for dinner? We have so many embarrassing stories to tell you.”

↣ beomgyu

It was his own fault, really, for not telling anyone that he had a girlfriend. He’d assumed he would, eventually, but the time hadn’t come, and now he was messing up the rehearsal because Yeonjun had shown him a funny conversation that he’d had with his crush, and Beomgyu recognized the phone number.

It was yours.

“Uh,” Beomgyu scratched his neck, sitting down on the floor of the practice room. He needed a break. “D-do you—I mean, have you liked her for a while?”

Yeonjun followed his lead and also lowered himself to the floor, crossing his legs. He shrugged then, the same goofy grin still on his face as he looked at the chat on his phone. “I guess. Why?”

“Well, because, see, I did not know that,” Beomgyu tried to explain, albeit excruciatingly slowly. “And I am, actually—funny story—uh, dating her. Kind of?”

Confused—and hoping to God he just misunderstood something—Yeonjun put his phone down and looked at him. “You’re… kind of dating her?”

Oh, this was terrible. Beomgyu was surely in love with you, and yet announcing that right now felt more difficult than telling someone their favorite pet had died. He hated the way Yeonjun looked at him – like he wished that this was a joke. A poorly executed prank.

“No, I-I…” Beomgyu said, swallowing the uneasiness, “I really am. We’ve been—it’s been about six months now.”

Yeonjun’s brain was clearly short-circuiting as he suddenly jumped from his spot on the floor. Beomgyu had to stretch his neck to be able to look at him now.

“You’ve been dating someone for six months and you haven’t told anyone?!” he accused.

Beomgyu cleared his throat. “Well, Kai knows.”

Yeonjun did not even blink. “You’ve been dating someone for six months and you told Kai?!”

Beomgyu couldn’t help the initial snicker that passed his lips because this sounded like Kai was the absolute worst person he could have told. But he knew that Yeonjun had, really, meant to say that he was offended not to be the first person to learn about this.

“He just found out by accident,” Beomgyu explained in a lighter tone. “He came home earlier than I expected, and he saw us—nevermind. That’s not the point. I, um—”

Seeing the pink shade on his cheeks made Yeonjun feel irrationally guilty, but also hurt. In an attempt for damage control – before Beomgyu suggested they talked more about this or something else that was equally as ludicrous – Yeonjun sat back down and smiled.

“Well, okay,” he said, giving the other boy a supportive kick in the shin. “This is six months overdue, but congratulations.”

“Oh,” Beomgyu hesitated for half a minute, but then his face settled into a smile, too. “Thank you.”

Yeonjun looked as if he’d already completely forgotten that you were his crush, but Beomgyu had seen the painful wince on his face – in his defense, it only lasted for a split-second; a reflexive reaction, nothing else – when he told him that you were his girlfriend.

↣ taehyun

He wasn’t the one who suggested the game, but he wasn’t exactly against it – and he would come to regret that very much just a little while later.

Yeonjun was the genius mind behind the idea that Soobin should finally confess to his crush – the reason for this wasn’t that Yeonjun simply wished his friend happiness; it was that he was sick and tired of hearing about said crush in the groupchat.

Soobin tried to back out of it, of course, but the boys quite literally ganged up on him – Kai tried to suggest a more diplomatic way of doing it, but the others weren’t listening. It took two people to hold Soobin down and then Kai—plot twist—ended up being the one who got the phone out from the boy’s pocket.

“We’re doing this for you,” Yeonjun lied as he dialed the phone number on Soobin’s phone and then thrust it at him. “Come on. Say hi when she picks up. You got this.”

The boys settled down when they heard the signal of the phone call. Silently, Taehyun balanced himself on the edge of the couch, next to where Soobin was sitting and he watched the boy take the phone from Yeonjun and brace himself.

Taehyun lost his balance and nearly fell off the couch when the voice that answered Soobin’s call was yours.

“Hi,” Soobin spoke, his voice nowhere near as panicked as Taehyun was feeling. “Sorry to call you so late. I, uh, I just wanted to tell you something.”

“Okay,” you replied on the other end of the call. Taehyun was four shades paler and nine times more horrified than he’d ever been in his life.

“So, here’s the thing,” Soobin continued, chuckling nervously. “I’ve actually wanted to tell you this for a while, but I could never find a way to do it. So, uh, here goes now. I—”

Leaping from his seat, Taehyun snatched the phone from the boy’s hand and, without any rational plan of action, ended up smacking it right onto the floor in terror. Silence on the line indicated that he was successful in his mission to end the call – and, likely, also successful at breaking the screen of Soobin’s phone.

“What,” Kai broke the silence, the rest of them too stunned to speak, “the hell?”

Taehyun looked up from the phone on the floor, a dignified look on his face, despite everyone watching him, completely flabbergasted.

“You need to get a new crush,” he said calmly – or so he assumed.

All eyes turned to Soobin then. He was just as confused as the rest of them. “What? Why?”

Taehyun cleared his throat, wishing he could make this announcement in a less dramatic manner. “Because this one’s mine.”

Soobin looked at the boys on either side of him to check if he was the only one completely dumbfounded. It calmed him to realise that the rest of them appeared to feel the same way.

“Y-you—what do you mean?” he asked then.

“She’s my—” Taehyun said, somehow thinking this would be easier, but he was, literally, standing in the middle of the room while four pairs of eyes watched him expectantly. Trying again, he spilled it all in a single breath, “she’s my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for a few months now. I was going to tell you eventually.”

Silence was their response. Then, someone said softly, “oh.”

Coughing again, Taehyun nodded, hands on his hips.

“Yes,” he said, eyeing the door of the living room with an adoring gaze. “So, I—I would prefer it if you didn’t call her from now on. I’ll be in my room.”

↣ huening kai

When Beomgyu insisted on introducing his crush to his group, none of them found it weird. He’d been friends with his crush for months and, in fact, Kai was the one who encouraged him to bring her over someday because they all wanted to meet her.

He did not expect to have met her already. Worse, he did not expect to actually be dating her.

Kai watched the way you stood—very disoriented—next to Beomgyu as he introduced you to the other members. When it was Kai’s turn to tell you his name – like the other boys had – he was unsure how to proceed. Actually, he was not quite sure if this was actually happening at all; it felt almost like a nightmare. Then he finally cleared his throat.

“That’s actually—” he started to say.

“We’re dating,” you cut him off. You turned to look at Beomgyu, expecting to see surprise on his face, but only seeing confusion.

“No, you’re not,” he replied, scoffing.

Now you were the one who did not know what to do next; the other members looked just as distraught. You glanced at Kai for help – who returned your gaze, equally as lost – and then looked back at Beomgyu’s puzzled face. He was watching this exchange curiously.

“You’re not,” he repeated. Then asked, less certainly, “are you?”

“We are,” Kai said. “It’s not… a joke. Or whatever you thought.”

“I didn’t think it was a—wow,” Beomgyu switched between looking at you and at Kai, the realisation finally dawning on him. “You really are dating. How—how come?”

This was a mess. It was starting to feel like you three were speaking different languages as Kai asked, “how come we’re dating?”

“No, I—well, that, too. But later,” Beomgyu waved his hand, dismissing that. He explained, “how come I didn’t know? I’m friends with you both, h-how could neither of you tell me?”

You had a bad feeling the second you saw Beomgyu today and he insisted he introduced you to his members right here, right now. You knew he wasn’t supposed to be the one doing this introduction, but he did not give you a minute to speak and explain that you’d clearly had your wires crossed.

“I assumed you knew,” you said now, feeling like it was a little too late. Or, actually, a lot too late. “I…I had thought you texted me because Kai gave you my number.”

Beomgyu scoffed again and even Kai shook his head.

“As if he’d ever do that,” Beomgyu said. “I had to go through fire and water to get your—nevermind. What’s your excuse?” he turned to the younger boy then.

You tried not to let his words affect you – he stopped himself before he said too much; that was what mattered most here – and yet you couldn’t help the guilt. You should have been clear about this from the beginning

“I was going to tell you,” Kai said. “But you, uh, beat me to it, kind of.”

“Hm. Right.”

“Well, this is still nice,” Taehyun interjected quickly and, one by one, your faces lit up with ridiculous smiles. This was the exact opposite of nice. “Let’s not make it any weirder. How about dinner? It’s on Kai.”

“Hey!”

“That’s what you get for dating someone behind our backs,” Yeonjun added. They had clearly teamed up against him.

You gave Kai a small, supportive smile when he looked at you in defeat. Then, the two of you both turned to look at Beomgyu, who had been unusually quiet, but even he had a small smile on his face. He gave you two a nod of reassurance – he’d be fine. Eventually.

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#txt reactions #txt fluff #txt angst #txt scenarios #txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader #txt drabbles

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bastart13 · 3 years

Photo

I’ve had a lot of fun recently coming with with female mercenary characters for TF2. I really liked where the concept art was going with making them all individual characters rather than simply “if the characters were women”

The design style is fantastic for distinct simplicity so I tried limiting myself to basic colours and shapes to make these

and I’m pretty confident they pass the silhouette test!

Character names/bios under the cut!

Heavy

Name: Marie Jarrett

Age: Mid 30s-40s

Height: 6’5

Nationality: American (Hawai’i)

Bio: Raised in Hawai’i, growing up she developed more and more drastic measures to fend off the tourists swarming her home. Land mines, electric gates, guard dogs, none could stop them for long until she picked up her trusty minigun to send her message. But even still, she hears the click of cameras in the night.

Eventually, she left her home to explore the world. Enthralled with the image of seeing different wonders across different countries, she’s always disappointed. She’s travelled every continent and still finds nothing that lives up to her expectations. No place, no person. She’s outgoing and open to new experiences, only she usually hates them.

Mercenary life is a great opportunity to earn money, see sights, meet new people and kill them after they don’t meet your expectations. She hates New Mexico and takes every opportunity to destroy the buildings and insult her employer’s tastes. She finds some people she tolerates within the mercenaries as she hasn’t yet visited where they live. However much she hides it, she has a deep, instinctual fear of the Engineer.

Soldier

Name: Linda Smith

Age: Early 40s

Height: 5’10

Nationality: Canadian

Bio: Canada’s perfect woman… or so she claims. The star of war propaganda posters and clearly decided for the role because of her great tactical assets. She’s there to motivate people into the fight. To spread the glory of Canada and inspire her allies. She believes she has higher orders than anyone else she’s working for (ignoring the fact she hasn’t heard from them for a good few years) and is determined to follow them to the letter. She may have lost the letter but she remembers it good enough.

She represents the ideals of Canada: polite, friendly, apologetic, and pacifistic. None of these are contradicted by how she throws around rockets. That’s not what Canada means. She’s superior to everyone around her and graciously educates them on how to improve through example. She loves her French and British allies and will kindly tell the Americans how to be better.

She’s motivating and actually fairly competent, it’s just that competency might be misdirected. She’s damn good at rocket jumping, shooting her shotgun, and supporting her team, it’s just that you really need to get it in her head when she’s meant to be doing it.

Scout

Name: Patricia “Pat” Herald

Age: 50s-60s

Height: 5’4

Nationality: English

Bio: In her years, Patricia has learnt fear… and she’s learnt to laugh in its face. She wakes up at the crack of dawn, ready to leave at the drop of a hat, boots polished and laced the night before. Her years have taught her that with a gun and Jeremy by her side, she can survive!

The postal route of Appleby-in-Westmorland.

She’s been chased by geese, dogs, cows, elderly ladies, and when her postal route had her delivering post during the war, she developed a taste for blood. Nothing will stop her from delivering her post on time. Every day before 6am, every postbox will have their letters and parcels. One chucked across barbed wire, another house jumped over a river, another house miles into the country with dogs on her heels, she WILL get there and she’ll get there FAST.

But after a couple of decades, she needs a change of scenery, and the Gravels wars are just the holiday she’s needed. With her trusty black and white cat by her side (ignoring the yowling and scratches) she reckons it’ll be great time to enjoy herself.

Quotes: “Oh, hello, Human Jeremy.”

“Bloody fucking Ethel! Building her house out in the country… surrounded by bloody hills and rivers!”

Pyro

Name: Nikephoros Papadopoulos

Age: Late 20s

Height: 5’11

Nationality: Greek

Bio: Survival of the fittest. Nature gives and nature taketh away. If you’re not prepared for that, well, Pyro is more than happy to teach you the lesson. They embody the old values of the Greek gods: f*ck or fire. She indulges her every whim and unfortunately for the people around her it often involves arson.

One year for the Olympic games, she was given the noble title of torchbearer. On complete coincidence, the Olympics shifted to primarily water sports. Underwater sprints became the hot new trend!

She’s merry and chatty, never missing the opportunity to talk to other people about herself and her world view. She can’t wait to spread her gospel to help other people improve themselves (though she always gets a laugh out of those who go out screaming in the flames). She can’t help it if she has a sadistic side.

Engineer

Name: Mikawo Kojima

Age: Early 20s

Height: 5’0

Nationality: Japanese

Bio: Japan’s early-rising industrial revolutions in technology are best exemplified in Mikawo, a young upstart determined to rise to the top, learning everything she can and building the best of the best. Unfortunately, she’s never been the most creative but when you happen upon other people’s blueprints and happen to construct them first, what does it matter who came up with the “concept”?

At first, she appears to be every bit the quiet and demure young woman people expect, only when silk hides steel, that steel is a massive automatic sentry gun. She’s motivated by a distinct contempt for the people who get in her way. Especially those who try to be better than her. She enjoys the flexibility of English, especially the cusses, and she has no reservations about swearing up a storm, even if she still refuses to give a straight rejection, preferring instead to give a small “I’ll think about it.”

Quotes: “This GUN is fair use on your head!”

Demo

Name: Qingzhao Zeng

Age: Late 40s

Height: 5’3

Nationality: Chinese

Bio: The Zeng family has a long-standing family trade in demolitions and explosives, traced down the line all the way to the Song dynasty. Luckily, Qingzhao has sisters so, you know, it’s not all that important. She doesn’t even have to stop smoking and drinking. She hasn’t blown herself up (that much) so clearly, it’s working. Precision is for other people to worry about. She’s apathetic to a T, having seen everything. Measurements come from the heart. A pinch of gunpowder there, a splash of paint there.

Her family has a deep-seated rivalry with the DeGroots. Long ago in ancient China, a Zeng matriarch woke up in a cold sweat, a message from the stars to let them know of their Scottish rivals. Due to being a continent away from each other, the families have actually met each other only a handful of times, but the hatred needs to be kept up because, what if?

Turns out, Qingzhao has met Tavish even before finding employment under the Mann brothers. One drunken night, the two of them had a short, whirlwind friendship, sharing secrets and declaring each other to be their best friends. Luckily for them, they both forgot the night, merrily hating each other as tradition dictates. However, headaches and flashes of this terrible night haunt them both. Could they really get over centuries of hate and become friends?

Absolutely not.

Sniper

Name: Ansa Aaltonen

Age: 27

Height: 6’2

Nationality: Finnish

Bio: Snow. Sugar. Cocaine. Her life is run by many white powders. Ansa is a professional sniper, with a sharp eye and a steady hand… when she isn’t also high as a kite, lost in the snowy wilderness of Finland and screeching to the sky. When you’re up in the dark and cold, you need something to give you a little pep in your step. It just so happens Ansa liked having a bit more pep than most.

She’s there for a THRILL. There’s nothing better to get your heart pumping at 200 beats per second than a good headshot, embracing the chill, and a hit of sugar. She no longer feels the cold or heat or even pain, shrugging it off until she collapses. It just makes her feel alive. She’s efficient, fast, and determined to get her kicks.

She has an unusual taste, living off fermented fish and tree bark. To most people around the Finnish wilderness, she’s nothing more than an urban legend, but she’s very real and she’s looking for some excitement, happily found in employment in the Gravel wars.

Spy

Name: Yvonne Pleshette [Real name N/A]

Age: 30s

Height: 5’8

Nationality: American (California)

Bio: The silver screen calls to his woman and she’s happy to answer. She trains herself to act in every possible role she can, having a wide range of accents, body languages, and backstories. To truly test herself, she gave up her identity long ago. Lately she’s been going by the name “Yvonne.”

The world of Hollywood is cutthroat and full of backstabbers so she learnt to cut throats and stab backs. While some people tell her the terms are metaphorical, nothing else has given her more roles. Living the mercenary life is simply gathering research for her roles (and earning some much-needed money in the process).

She presents herself as a classic film star, despite being a minor name at best, mostly because she’s always changing it. She has high standards but a cheapskate personality. She’s a bit of a bitch, happily criticising others, especially if they’re working with her. What can she say? She’s a diva.

[Slutshames other spy]

Quotes: “Ugh, actors these days, they know nothing about getting into character. They still have names.”

“’AHHHHH—’ Wait, no. Once more from the top. Scream in agony.”

Medic

Name: Susan Monks

Age: 30-40s

Height: 5’7

Nationality: American (New Jersey)

Bio: The American Healthcare system. Is there a more glorious sight? The exploitation of pain. The money. The debt. The fear it strikes into the entire population it’s designed to help. To Susan, there’s nothing better. She squeezes every last drop from the people she helps, working on a purely transactional lifestyle. She’ll never help someone unless she has all of their insurance information and the payment secure in her bank, and god forbid she ever accept help. It’s not like she can afford her own prices.

She’s very self-aware of her own corruption and proud of it, though she refuses to be exploited in the same way, suspicious of anything “free” but also doing her best not to pay for anything.

That said, she doesn’t much care for how good a job she does. In her eyes, asking for surgery is one thing. Asking for successful surgery is another. She has a variety of skills in both cosmetic and military medicine. She just wishes the license board would stop sending her “malpractice” letters. Ugh, stick to your own business. “Disappearing” all their messengers is becoming a pain.

Quotes: “Why get someone else to do something for you when you can scrounge a way to do it yourself?”

#team fortress 2 #team fortress #tf2 #fem tf2 #tf2 heavy #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 soldier #tf2 demoman #tf2 pyro #character design #art #i'm very happy with how these turned out

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hypnomicimagines · 2 years

Note

purple lilac with ramuda please !! <33

Amemura Ramuda:

Purple Lilac - love at first sight.

Hearing a commotion on the Shibuya streets isn’t exactly something new to you.

There was always something going on, especially now that Shibuya’s own Fling Posse had made it into the DRB. You had only attended one of the preliminary rap battles before but it seemed pretty standard as far as entertainment went, they were an interesting group but from so far away you couldn’t fully enjoy their cuteness. Or at least, you assumed they were attractive men but the throngs of women fighting tooth and nail to get to the front assured you were as far from the stage as possible.

You hadn’t really sought out any outside information no them so no close-ups were available for you to appreciate; honestly, you were just worried about getting obsessed with something again. If you fell in love with Fling Posse than you’d have to go cheer them on in the big DRB, and that would probably cost an arm and leg. The last band you’d been obsessed with had robbed you blind with their merch and you hardly even looked them up anymore to see if they were releasing new stuff.

But just that one concert had been enough to pique your interest, and when you heard their familiar voices while walking down the street, you were pulled in before you actually had a choice in the matter.

There were still plenty of women crowded around and screeching their souls out but there was something more casual about this performance, like it was spontaneous or something. You stood off toward the side of the crowd but it was a much closer view before, enough to confirm your fears that they were indeed cute. They were varying levels of cute, with their leader being the cutest of cute, while the green-eyed man was a suave sort of cute, and the blue-haired one looked more like his charm came more from his personality than his looks.

You’re bopping your head along to the music, smiling, enjoying the performance over the screaming fans, when your eyes met the bright blue ones of the leader. Ramuda’s eyes widened for a second before a grin broke out on his face, bouncing through the crowd and dodging the arms of the various women trying to snatch at him until he’s right in front of your face.

“Run away with me~?” He asked in a sweet voice, batting his eyelashes at you with a demand that you couldn’t possibly deny. You reached out to touch his outstretched hand and suddenly you found yourself darting through absolute chaos, girls screeching and screaming out for Ramuda.

His hand is soft yet strong as he dragged you along, turning this way and that, peaking behind him and giggling as he sees you’re still being followed. You have to say this was exhausting but also a little thrilling, how often did something like this happen to you? Whatever may stem from this is well worth the consequences.

When you turn yet another corner you noticed an alley nearby, completely out of sight of the mob of girls that only seemed to grow larger the longer you ran with him. Deciding you were done with cardio for the day you pulled him into said alley, not noticing that you had him pressed up against the wall as you almost protectively shielded him from the girls running by. None of them dared to look to the side in case they missed the next sighting of their precious Ramuda and it worked in your favor as you heard the sounds of their voices getting weaker and weaker until they were near non-existent.

It’s a little dark in the alley as the building has it blocked from sunlight but you can still see the dark blush on Ramuda’s face, a more contemplative expression on his face as he looked at you. You were about to stutter out a reply for being so close but he didn’t give you the chance to, letting out a happy laugh and wrapping his arms around your middle.

“Can’t you tell me your name before you take advantage of little ol’ me?” He teased, despite the fact he had made the first move both times. You scoffed but that only made him laugh again, smiling at you as he waited for your response. You supposed it was better late than never to give him a proper introduction, bowing as you introduced yourself.

“Why did you do that?”

“My fans are so super excitable; they might’ve trampled us both if I hadn’t—”

“I meant why did you grab me out of the crowd in the first place?”

“Isn’t it more mysterious if I don’t tell you? I don’t think I will~” Ramuda leaned in close, arms wrapped around you again. “I just think you’re really cute~ Isn’t that enough?”

Perhaps this was the first time you had truly seen him but he had noticed you long ago, quietly exciting the preliminary rap battle area. He had snuck away with Dice and Gentaro in an attempt to not get mobbed but they had spotted you walking the same way and stopped abruptly. You hadn’t even given them a second glance, looking down at your phone before continuing on your way; Ramuda had only seen your side-profile once but he was so struck by you he knew he had to have you.

Seeing you in that crowd again… He couldn’t stop himself from acting, even if it was impulsive!

Because now he had you in his arms.

And he hoped you wouldn’t let him go.

#Amemura Ramuda #Ramuda Amemura #Hypnosis Mic #Hypnosis Microphone #Hypmic #Hypnosis Mic Imagines #Hypnosis Microphone Imagines #Hypnosis Mic x Reader #Hypnosis Microphone x Reader #Amemura Ramuda x Reader #Scenario #Flower Prompts

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